


The Last Five Years

by byebands



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Actor Bucky!Au, And sad and angry at others, Bucky sucks in this, But it's cute and cheesy at times, F/M, I just wanted to practice writing and I love this movie therefore I wrote this, Modern day!AU, Shamelessly self indulgent fic, The Last Five Years, but bucky? bucky for sure sucks, its been brought to my attention that reader doesnt suck in this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-01-18 17:03:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21280202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/byebands/pseuds/byebands
Summary: (A rewriting of The Last Five Years as an exercise in writing)In New York, a struggling writer and a successful actor experience their failed marriage from two perspectives.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 45
Kudos: 26





	1. Still Hurting

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! So - before you get mad at me for literally taking this entire work - it's just a shameless exercise in writing. I just wanted to see if I could effectively translate what I saw on screen into words. And I thought maybe you'd all enjoy to read it. If you've got issue with it, my apologies. I do not claim this as an original idea. I do not claim this works or its characters, really. I am just trying to get my writing chops up. I guess. I dunno. But! This movie was wonderful and I was in love with Kathy and Jamie and thought I'd give my hand at them. Some things are different, some things are the same. Most of it's bad. But, please enjoy!
> 
> Also, quick explanation for those that haven't seen the movie: it's told from two different directions! Reader is telling the tale of their relationship from end to start, whereas Bucky is going from start to finish!

The subway was hot and stuffy from the bodies of all the passengers crammed in like poorly packaged sardines. Everyone was tired and longing for their exits. (Y/N)’s hair had gone flat and her back was sore from having to curve around a pole to keep herself steady. She’d had to remove her jacket in order to survive heat stroke, and was elated when she was cold enough to put it back on. The subway had smelt like human body odor and an underlying scent of fermented garbage. Had she not been a semi-regular subway passenger, she would have completely given in to the throws of misery. She hated how used to things she could become. How complacent and accepting she tended to be. Ohio had been a small Hell that she had ultimately gotten used to, just as had been the subway. She felt she could overlook anything.

(Y/N)’s anticipation for home had risen every second she’d spent away. She was unhappy. She was tired, and she wanted nothing more than to sleep. Wanted to curl up in bed and put the entirety of Ohio behind her. Put the entirety of everything behind her. Her previous weekend had been one of the worst, and she prayed that coming home would ease that pain. Ease every hurtful word and emotion she’d heard, said and felt some two days ago. Ease the anguish in her chest since he’d left. She had spent the entire time thinking, “_soon I’ll be home. _ _I can make it a few more hours.” _Trying to reassure herself that things were gonna be fine. That they were gonna be fine. That when things to be at their worst, they always have a knack of swinging around to good again. 

The cab from the dingy train station to home wasn’t excruciatingly long, but felt like an absolute eternity. (Y/N) knew she would soon be home and was growing more uplifted with every passing street. She would feel better, hopefully happier. Nothing that happened in Ohio would matter when she walked through the doors of her apartment and saw all of her things, and _ him _ . _ He _ would make everything good again, with his hugs and his words of support and soliloquies of _ I missed you _ and his _ sorry _ . His _ I didn’t mean it _. He would heal all wounds, fix the crack that had nearly split the two of them apart. He had been the one to make it, after all.

When the cab parked in front of the three story brownstone a wave of something washed through (Y/N). She couldn’t describe it and was entirely sure that she didn’t like it. “125 West 119th Street,” the cab called to her from the front seat as if she didn’t already know the address of her own apartment. She remembered the day that they had signed the lease on it. How scared she felt, and how he kept telling her that it was gonna be great. That their home was gonna be great. That they were gonna be great. 

(Y/N) snapped out of her daze. Handing the cabby her fare signified the end of her trip and the feeling she had intensified. Stepping out of the cab, she gave a glance up to the second floor window of her apartment. The curtains were half drawn and the lights were off denying a proper peek in. It was nearly six in the evening and the sun was completely cloaked behind a jacket of clouds. If _ he _was home, surely he’d need a light on. (Y/N)’s stomach knotted. 

The cabby retrieved (Y/N)’s bag from the trunk while she was staring up at the window, hand fisted around the strap of her purse. She wasn’t aware that more than ten seconds had passed, and was startled when the cabby dropped her suitcase at her feet, huffing loudly. (Y/N) dismissed him with a ‘thank you’ called over her shoulder as she bent to pick up her bag, carrying it towards the stairs of the brownstone. 

Her keys were clipped to the strap of her purse, her fingers finding them easily. They gave a small hassle while trying to unlock the deadbolt of the main door but didn’t prove to be too big of a challenge. When she closed the main door behind her there were hushed voices from down the hall. 

“(Y/N), is that you?” Mrs. Zaldana asked from her front door at the end of the hallway. She was dressed in a tattered purple robe, with slippers that had seen days better than the present. She figured that the voices she had heard were coming from the blaring TV that was stashed somewhere within Mrs. Zaldana’s apartment. The poor old woman was deaf as a doornail and it was made even more apparent by the volume she listened to things at. 

“Yes, Mrs. Zaldana, it is.” (Y/N) loudly replied, looking longingly at the staircase to her right. She was in no mood for a conversation, merely one flight of stairs away from /_ him/. _ She didn’t want to prolong the wait. “I’m sorry to be rude, but I’m exhausted. I’ll talk to you tomorrow morning. I might bring muffins,” she told her, not waiting for a response as she ascended the stairs. Her footfalls sounded so loud, echoing against the walls. _ Were they always like this?, _ she wondered. 

As she walked her mind busied itself with quick thoughts of him. They’d fought the last time she’d seen him, they’d argued and she’d cried. He’d yelled, and he’d looked angry. She knew he would surely not be over it. Couldn’t be over it. No, he never did let things go like she did. He held onto everything. Let his anger or resentment fester like an infected wound. Wouldn’t let her clean it and heal it and mend it. He was so stubborn. So hateful sometimes. She loved him madly. 

A hiss sounded when she reached the top of the stairs. Mr. Martinez’s cat was perched on the banister of the staircase, it’s legs tucked underneath her orange body. She gave the cat a soft stroke when she reached her, letting the cat affectionately nuzzle into her palm. After a moment her hand left the tabby’s fur, dropping to her side. Her heartbeat sped again as she took the final distance to the apartment, readying her keys to unlock the door. She gripped the handle to pull the door towards herself, the only way the old bolt would disengage, and found it loose. She narrowed her brows at the brass knob, giving it a tentative turn. The door opened with a squeak. 

“Bucky?” She called into the apartment, following the door inside. The apartment was dark and empty. She shrugged out of the black leather jacket covering her arms. Kicking off her shoes, she realized the chair to the desk in front of the window was pulled out. Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach, her hands becoming clammy and shaky. “No,” she whispered, shaking her head. Her mind began pulling forward every awful scenario that could be happening. That could be the reason for a dark apartment and an unlocked front door. She wanted none to be true.

She sat down on the chair in front of the desk, her knees feeling too weak to support herself. The desktop had been cleared of nearly all of the objects that once littered it before she left. In front of her was a stark grey envelope that had her name written on it in a familiar messy scrawl. She cleared her throat, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. She couldn’t open the envelope yet. Couldn’t breathe. Her throat felt dry and scratchy, like she was struggling with a bad cold. 

“You can’t do this to me,” she managed to whisper out, seeing the gold band that had been carefully set atop the envelope. Her hand trembled minutely when she picked the ring up, turning it around her finger. The outside was scuffed and dirty, showing the wear and tear of three years on his finger. The inside, however, was smooth and polished. She figured it was from all of the times he’d taken it off. She set it down with a pained look like suddenly the metal had sparked a flame against her skin. 

She noticed the keys next, deciding they were the reason her front door had been unlocked when she had returned home. She saw the house key and the mailbox key both attached to a dull metal ring. She plucked them up, sliding the metal ring along her finger until it sat at the base. She held the finger up, looking at the keys while she spun them around. She wanted to be able to throw the keys out of the window and the pain that she was feeling with them. 

She dropped the keys to the desktop with a thud, deciding to finally face the letter. He throat felt drier than before and she had a tingling in her nose that indicated she was on the verge of crying. Inside the envelope was a piece of off-white paper folded thrice. Unfolding it revealed that he’d written his final letter to her on a slip of paper that read “_ James and (Y/N) Barnes _” at the top. “How fitting,” she said to the empty room. “Writing your goodbye on our stationary.” 

She held the paper tightly in between the first finger and thumb of both hands, eyes scanning over the scratchy script. She felt like every letter was being burnt into her cerebellum as tears rolled down her cheeks leaving streaks where the foundation had been washed away. 

She let the letter fall from her fingers to the desk, her breath held in her chest as she moved her gaze to focus out the window. The sky outside was still dark, the clouds an angry grey. She felt as if the weather was mocking her. Saying she didn’t deserve to see the sun since hers had just walked out on her. She pushed up from the chair, her knees feeling wobbly as she did. She took a few tentative steps, reaching her hand out to grab onto the arm of the couch. She thought of how much she hated it when he’d picked it out, and couldn’t help but chuckle at the realization that the fight they’d had over it was the most inconsequential thing now, but had held so much weight before.

She sunk to the floor in front of the couch, resting her back against it. She hadn’t stopped crying. The tears felt like they’d started coming faster, pouring down her face like they were on a race to see who could make it down her neck the fastest. She brought her knees up, her arms wrapping around them in a self hug. She didn’t know what she could do, what she could say. She felt numb. Her whole being had frozen like gridlocked traffic. She couldn’t bring her thoughts away from him, couldn’t even begin to worry about what she was going to do now. What she could do now that she wasn’t his, he wasn’t hers, and he wasn’t here. 

She looked around the apartment that once had been theirs, where their memories were made and their lives were shared. Where they’d started their lives as two and joined together to become one. A unified being. 

“Bucky’s gone,” she heard herself whisper into the apartment. Her voice sounded weak and scratchy from the sobs that had been echoing from her throat since she’d begun reading the letter. She rubbed her cheek against her shoulder, sniffling hard to clear her nose as best she could. “He thinks this is all my fault,” she muttered, shaking her head in disbelief. 

_ Had she not tried? _, she wondered. She’d dragged him to therapists, sat on couches uglier than the one he’d picked out for them and aired all of their dirty laundry to a therapist with a judgmentally arched eyebrow and a pen that never moved. She’d lauded over him, poured her heart out in a flood on the floor. Listened while he blamed her for every problem, abhorred her for every instance in their lives when they were unhappy. 

“You always thought that I was the problem,” she said, raising her bloodshot eyes to look at the picture of the two of them on the fireplace mantel. “I’m sure you’re doing just fine, knowing you were the one who got to decide this. Got to leave. Chose to cut and run, to what? Find something better?” she hissed. “Find _ someone _ better,” she amended. She felt anger bubbling up, quickly tampering that down to stifle it. She needed to feel her pain first. Accept that she was heartbroken, not deny it. Not cover it up with easier emotions.

“You don’t -” her voice broke, her hand rubbing at her nose. “You don’t get the easy way out.” She felt insane, sitting on the floor and talking to a picture. Knew that it wasn’t going to solve anything. She was going to still be hurting, and he was completely oblivious to it all. “God,” she groaned. “What about you? Huh? What about you, Bucky?” She used the sleeve of her shirt to wipe her nose, figuring her hand unfit for the job. “You think I’m the problem?” She asked of the picture which would stay mute. “You had your secrets, Bucky! You knew you had to hide things from me. Keep them locked away in some vault within yourself. Throw them out when they got to be too much. Ignore them like you ignored me. Bring them back, Bucky! Bring back your lies. Hang them on our wall! Hang them with our wedding photos and the photos of you and I where you were already falling out of love with me. Why not?” She stood from the floor, a sob ripping through her chest when she caught a glimpse of his ring again.

She trudged the short distance across the apartment to the small kitchen, grabbing a bottle of wine from the counter. She reached up and removed a wine glass from the shelving unit where it was held, setting it down with a clink to the faux granite countertop. She ripped apart a drawer in order to find the corkscrew, cursing over the fact it was never easy to locate. She uncorked the bottle and threw the screw into the sink where it made a loud metal clang. Pouring the liquid into the glass she became aware, again, of her trembling hands. She wondered how she wasn’t dousing the entire kitchen with the wine. 

She walked out of the kitchen armed with a half full glass of wine in one hand and a bottle in the other. If anything were going to help her, it was inebriation. “You know something?” She asked, aware that she would never hear an answer. “Here I am, stuck in this fucking apartment that _ you _ wanted. Covered in invisible scars from every fight we had in this place, and you? Where are you? Hiding away? Chasing something that you’ll never find? Fuck you.” She chugged the wine from the glass, refilling it as she sat down on the padded bench in front of their - her - bed. She set the bottle down by her feet, holding the glass firmly between both hands. Memories were racing back and forth as she looked around the apartment. 

She was certainly still hurting, she decided. No more anger from before, though her tone could have fooled an outsider. Nothing but pure, unadulterated pain. Pain for everything they were, pain for everything they’d yet to be, pain for everything that they _ should _ have been. She finished her second glass, setting it down beside the bottle. “Maybe, maybe if you’d stayed. If you’d have talked to me. Told me your goodbyes in person… Maybe then I could understand how you could leave. Maybe then I’d see that you never thought we had a chance at all.” 

She stood from the bench, walking to his dresser which she knew was empty now. She paused for a moment, wanting to open the drawers. Wanting to see his clothes in them. Wanting to see some evidence that he wasn’t really gone. That he hadn’t really left after all. That this was just a fucking act to try and change her. Make her cave and shape herself into the wife he thought he deserved. One that turned a blind eye to everything he did. One that knew how far they’d cracked apart, but would be able to salvage it. To rebuild everything between them. 

(Y/N) looked down at her hands, spreading her fingers out. She wiped at her cheeks, sniffling before splaying her hands out again in front of herself. She looked from the old golden ring with the adorning pearls she always wore to the small silver one that she would spin anxiously. She then moved her attention to her wrist, unlatching the watch that was looped around it. She was out of time with the one who had given it to her, she felt no need to keep it on. Sliding it off of her wrist, she had to pull her lips in between her teeth to keep from making any sounds. She set the watch down atop the dresser and moved to take off the golden bracelet that had accompanied it. She set it down next to the watch, taking in a shaky breath. 

She looked back down at her hands again, seeing the last thing he’d given her. The diamond band around the ring finger of her left hand. She sobbed, this one sounding more pained than she ever thought she could. More raw and vulnerable than she’d ever been in her life. She twisted the ring off of her finger for the first time in three years, setting it down atop the dresser. She rubbed at the skin of her finger for a moment, feeling the phantom weight of the ring like it were still there. She took a few weak steps back from the dresser, eyes trained on the jewelry that had once held so much value to her. She sank back down onto the bench, hands falling into her lap. 

“What now?” (Y/N) wondered of the empty apartment, voice drained and heart heavy. Where could she go now? Where could she turn? She wanted to lay on the bed and have him to curl against, to lay with and be comforted by. How could he be the one she needed the comfort because of? How could he be the one who broke them? Broke her? Let something that was once so wonderful die? 

She was still hurting, alright. And God. She wondered when that would change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone (Nova) requested I perhaps write an alternate ending wherein they end up together. Would that be something you'd like? Please let me know!


	2. Shiksa Goddess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Smut.  
This chapter is told from Bucky's side - so it starts at the beginning of their relationship. The two are having their first time together, and it's dumb and smutty and kind of sweet!
> 
> Alternative Chapter Title: "The Art Of Confusing Lust for Love"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be advised they have sex in this chapter, so if you're not down to read it, just skip I guess. I dunno. You can figure out what happens by reading the rest of the story! (-:  
Thank you for giving this a shot!

The apartment door flew open with a loud bang against the wall, Bucky and (Y/N) bursting into laughter as they both clammered for each other. (Y/N) teetered on her feet, half falling against the wall. He was on her in a second, kicking the door shut behind him as he grabbed at her. His hands found her waist and moved up her sides and back, grabbing at the back of her neck and her hair as he pressed his mouth to hers. She fisted his shirt, pressing her hips away from the wall and against his as they kissed.

He laughed minutely when she wobbled on her heels, spinning the two of them to press her against the opposite wall, accidentally knocking over a small end table with his knee. She let out a yelp at the noise the table made before giggling, pulling him back against her for another kiss. 

Bucky held her tightly in his arms, leaning back to encourage her to lift her legs. She obliged, her legs wound around his waist and tightened for added support. She carded her fingers through his hair, tugging at the strands to make his head pull back, their lips detaching from each other. His breathing was ragged, as was hers, and his pupils were wide. He attached his mouth to her neck, leaving behind a few sucked on bruises that would make the skin sore in the morning. 

He was burning up, his skin needing her hands all over. Caressing, rubbing, grabbing, scratching. She released his hair to enable herself to throw her jacket off of her body and onto the floor somewhere. He waited for her hands to return to his neck, to his hair, for her skin to be close enough for him to kiss again. He pressed her back against the wall, his arms unwinding from her waist to grab at her thighs. His lips stopped on her neck, moving to bite at her collarbone and shoulder, his hands pushing the fabric of her dress up to expose more of her legs and ass to him. His fingers ground into the skin of her ass, massaging her while grinding his hips with hers in a steady beat.

She laughed when he pulled away from the wall and dropped her to the bed. He watched her unzip the back of her dress, shaking his head in amazement. “I’m so happy I found you,” he told her. 

She nodded her head, leaning down to remove her heels. Bucky watched her, smiling a little. He began speaking as he worked on unbuttoning his shirt. “You know? I’ve been forced to date good, wholesome girls that my mother has been choosing for me since I was younger. Happy, Catholic girls that she picked out for me at church.”

His girl on the bed looked up at him with her hand still on the clasp of her shoe. “What’s happening?” she asked in confusion. 

He smiled, throwing his shirt off and to the side. “I’m saying, I’m so glad that you’re not... Well! You’re not this perfect little Catholic girl who grew up like I did and whose entire family is just as insane as mine. Who makes me want to hit my head against the wall as hard as I can because I’m being forced to another church function.”

(Y/N) stared at him in confusion, watching him unbutton his jeans. “Why are you saying this?” She wondered, halting her actions. She didn’t know if she should try keeping herself in the moment, or focus on his confession. 

“I’m saying this because -“ Bucky pushed his jeans down, stepping out of them. “I have been waiting through Danica, Erica and the Handler twins. I’ve been through Heather, Annie, Karen and Lisa.” He paused for a second, thinking through the names. “There was Stacy, Ellen, Joanie and Jamie. Who, by the way, was one of the worst weekends of my life. I had a Sunday dinner with every member of the Dawson family. Every single one of which drove me insane, made me feel like all I would be was this stupid alter boy from New York that was forced to thump the bible for life.”

“You get around,” she observed, throwing her heel across the room where it landed with a thunk. She wondered when his speech would end, looking his body over when he removed the shirt he’d worn underneath his button up. Her smile was soft, her body unconsciously spreading her legs apart just enough for him. “Are you planning on adding me to this ever growing list of failed relationships?”

Bucky smiled, climbing onto the bed between her legs, following her movements as she made to lay on her back. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he whispered, lowering his lips to hers. The two wrapped their arms around each other, his hands removing the thin brown belt from around her waist. He withdrew from the kiss, letting her go to be able to throw the belt across the room. 

Leaning down again, he picked her up to rest on his thighs while he slipped the top of her dress down around her waist, speaking against her skin. “I could barely catch my breath when I first met you. I was like some lunatic, just standing around holding my phone in my hand. Waiting to call you, and scared to death,” he confessed, biting softly at the swell of her breast as his fingers unclasped her bra. He kissed along her chest, pulling the strap of her bra off of her shoulder in a kiss, the other falling down of its own accord. 

(Y/N) pushed him away a bit, throwing the bra aside to join the growing pile of clothes, letting out a soft moan when his lips found her nipple and gave a firm suck. “You already knew that I liked you, you shouldn’t have been scared,” she said through a shaky-with-lust voice. Her mind was swirling with the feelings of his lips on her and she ached for him to give her more. To strip her down and fuck her like mad. 

He let her lie down on her back, her legs bent at the knees, her feet resting on his thighs. He looked over her figure, wanting to press his lips and tongue against every inch of her. He hooked his fingers into her dress which was bunched around her waist, slowly dragging the material down her body, catching her underwear on the way. 

She couldn’t help acknowledging how gorgeous he looked as she watched him undress her. His hair was a disheveled brown mess on top of his head, his mouth swollen from kissing her and lips shiny with saliva. She wanted his lips between her legs, kissing and licking at the space she needed him most. 

He developed a wicked smile on his lips as he tossed the dress and her underwear aside, leaning over her to press his hips against hers, nipping at her collar bones again, wanting to mark her as his. Show whomever she met that she was loved and she was well fucked. She pushed her hips against his, rocking them, trying to get some friction. Bucky could feel she was soaking wet through the fabric of his boxer briefs, his cock responding and standing with more attention. 

“C’mon, baby…” She moaned, lowering her hips from his. She reached between the two of them to slip her hand past the waistband of his boxers, her fingers wrapping around his shaft. Bucky’s voice caught in his throat, the moan he wanted to make getting stifled completely. (Y/N)’s hand moved quickly on his shaft, stopping when content with his hardness.

He stood from the bed to push his underwear off of himself, groaning loudly when he looked at her in front of him. Her legs were spread and inviting, her pretty pink pussy on display for him and only him. His mouth watered at the thought, his dick giving a pulse. 

She gave her hips a roll, her chest rising and falling fast with each breath. He moved to be on his knees on the bed in front of her, his hands gently rubbing her thighs. She reached down between her legs, beginning to softly rub her own clit in circles, wanting to have some kind of action. Something to keep herself interested in being fucked. Bucky knew if he took much longer, she’d get herself off and make him useless. 

He reached out and wrapped his hand around her wrist, giving it a firm squeeze. She yelped, opening her eyes to look at him. “Stop. That’s my job,” he told her, moving her hand to the bed at her side, holding it there firmly. 

She made a grunting noise, “well you’re about to be fired.” 

He licked his lips, smirking a bit. “Oh, stop.” He kissed down her stomach, stopping at her hip bones where he made sure to leave a bite on each. Wanting her to remember him every time she saw the marks. With the hand that wasn’t holding her wrist, he began rubbing her clit in the same soft circular motion she’d been doing before. Her eyes shut again, her breathing picking up faster. 

Bucky slipped his middle finger down between her lips, gathering some of her wetness to make it easier when he rubbed at her clit. She let out a whimper when his finger had lowered on her and he smiled a bit at her, repositioning his hand to be able to push a finger into her, using his thumb to add pressure to her clit. Her hips jolted, her wrist pulling away from his hold. “Bucky, please,” she begged. “Want you, inside, now.” 

He hooked his finger inside of her, adding another to stretch her a bit. “You’re impatient,” he acknowledged, pressing his thumb harder against her, rolling it in a faster circle against her hardened nub. 

“You - you gave me a whole speech,” she groaned. “I’ve been patient.” 

He laughed, “I can’t deny that.” 

His fingers slipped out of her and he brought them to his lips to lick clean, watching as she pressed her head back against the bed harder. He had to refrain from commenting on how she tasted divine. 

He could physically see her desperation, her need and her want. He groaned, suddenly realizing he couldn’t fuck her yet. “Condoms?”

She reached out to the nightstand beside the bed, throwing the drawer open with obvious annoyance. She wanted him buried inside of her already, wanted to feel every inch of him on and in her. Her hand batted around in the drawer for a moment, Bucky mercifully leaning over her body to be able to look inside and find the condom she’d been searching for blindly. When it was in his hand she made quick to grab it from him, tearing the package open without concern. He watched with half lidded eyes as she rolled the latex down his dick, his adam's apple bobbing when he swallowed to keep from making a noise. 

She released his dick when the condom was securely around him, moving her arms to snake around his neck. The two inched up on the bed as they kissed, Bucky finding a comfortable position between her warm legs. The two smiled against each others lips. He rest his hand on her hip while positioning himself to slip between her lips into her. She took a deep breath when he reached the hilt, her eyes squeezing shut tighter as her legs wound around his waist. He lowered his head to kiss and nip at her neck, slowly beginning to ease himself out of her, wanting to stay between her legs and buried inside of her for eternity. 

She whimpered when he bit down on a spot he’d made sensitive earlier, and he took that moment to press his hips into hers hard enough to turn her whimper into a gasp. She splayed her hands across his back, her fingernails gently dragging at his skin every time he thrust into her. The two quickly found a rhythm, (Y/N) pressing her hips up against his every time he thrust into her. Their breathing becoming ragged and their lips moving wantonly against each other. 

He could feel her getting to the edge by the way her muscles gripped tighter around him, the way her back arched away from the bed and her fingers grabbed harder at his back, her nails digging deep crescent moons into his skin. He picked his pace up, moving a hand from her side to between their bodies, rubbing against her clit to hurry her up, to get her off faster, to hear her moan and scream out for him. 

She whined loudly, moaning his name into his shoulder, her legs spreading wider than they had been before. Bucky smiled, kissing at the side of her open mouth, continuing to rub circles against her while keeping his hips moving, fucking her through her high. She panted loudly, whimpering and trying to regain some semblance of composure. He continued his ministrations, wanting to reach his end with her, to feel that release now that she had. Wanted to have her kiss and hold him while he came. 

And God, how she did. She littered his face with kisses as he finished off inside of her, carded her fingers through his hair and moaned with him. Rubbed at his back and held him lovingly. Let him rest against her, his head on her chest and her chin resting against his temple. He never wanted to move. Never wanted to withdraw himself from her body and her arms, never wanted to lose her warmth. 

He held her tighter, taking deep breaths to calm his body from the after effects of an orgasm. When he could finally bring himself to move, to tear himself away from her chest, he pushed himself up to his knees. She pouted at the loss, closing her legs at the ankles. Bucky slipped the condom off, tying it at the end, tossing it into the wastebasket beside the bed. 

(Y/N) stood from the bed after a few beats, kissing him on the cheek before walking from the bed into the bathroom. She gave him a soft smile which he returned before she shut the door, leaving him to sit on his knees on the bed and miss her. Leaving him to stare at the space where he’d just had her, and realize how fucking gone for her he was.

Bucky dragged his hands down his face, stopping at his jaw to absently scratch at the stubble decorating the skin. He collapsed to his side on the bed, grabbing at the sheets that were messed up during all of the movements they had made on the bed. Rolling onto his back, he took a deep breaths and realized that he was smiling like a fool as he pulled the sheet over himself to cover his legs and groin, letting the fabric rest on his stomach just above his belly button. His left arm came up to rest underneath his head, his muscles feeling relaxed and his body too comfortable on the bed that wasn’t his own. How he looked forward to more nights spent in it. 

She exited the bathroom and gave him another smile as she rounded the bed to lay beside him, pulling the sheets over her own body. She made herself comfortable against his side, one of her legs resting on top of his thigh as the other rest below it. Bucky smiled at the hug she was giving his body, at the weight of her head on his chest and the feeling of her hand warm on his stomach. He could get used to being her pillow. 

He began rubbing her back with the tips of his fingers, listening to her breathe, feeling her shift around slightly to make herself more comfortable. He smiled with content, continuing to dance his fingers across her skin. “You know,” he whispered to her, not knowing if she’d passed out yet or not. 

She tilted her head back a little, keeping it on his chest but angling herself to be able to look at him while he spoke. He smiled faintly, beginning to twirl the ends of her hair around his fingers. “You are the romance I wish could be captured on film.” He began. “You are the story I wish the world could see on the big screen, the girl everyone would fall for.” 

Laughing, she tried hiding her face against his chest. He smiled at her actions, continuing to twirl her hair around his fingers. “(Y/N), I’ve gotta tell you,” he whispered and felt her tense against him. He smirked, knowing she thought it was something bad. That she was about to be heartbroken or something similar. He coaxed her to look at him, giving her a kiss when she did. “I have been waiting for someone. God, I’ve been praying for someone.”

She nodded, narrowing her eyes a bit at him while he spoke, her lips thinning in a smile. “I mean... I think I could be in love with someone,” Bucky whispered, kissing her forehead. “Someone, like you.” He finished, smoothing her hair back and away from her face with the hand that had previously been under his head. She gave him a smile, raising her own hand to cup his cheek before pushing up on her other elbow, giving him a soft kiss. 

Bucky secured his arm around her ribs, rolling the two over while they kissed, smiling against her lips when she spread her legs for him to slip between once more. 


	3. See, I'm Smiling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky makes it to Ohio to visit (Y/N) while she works on a play.
> 
> Alternative Chapter Title: "Try To Put The Tiniest Bit Of Effort Into Our Relationship"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a sadder chapter... I dunno, enjoy please!

The lake was peaceful and serene, nothing bothering or disturbing it. The air around the lake was just as calm, no wind rattling the trees and no leaves being ruffled. (Y/N) tugged at the three-quarters sleeve of her ugly sweater, wishing she’d worn something different. Wishing that she looked prettier for his potential arrival, that she wore something that was cute and revealing and would keep his interest on her for more than perhaps a minute. She decided it ultimately didn’t matter, that he’d never show up anyway. And even if he did, she wouldn’t have any of his real attention.

She heard footsteps on the wood of the pier and turned her head to look at the person who had approached her. She widened her eyes a little in shock, looking Bucky over anxiously. He gave her a soft smile that didn’t reach his eyes and she subconsciously moved a little further away from him, scooting on the uncomfortable bench. He continued his path down the pier, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. She acknowledged how nice he looked in his fitted black button down and dark wash jeans. She wondered who else had gotten to enjoy his appearance, and quickly shook her head to dismiss the thought.  _ What matters now is that he’s here with you _ , she reminded herself. 

Bucky removed his hands from his pockets and sat down with her on the bench, leaning over to give her a soft kiss on the cheek. She sighed at his actions, fingers knitting together in her lap. “What’s wrong?” 

She shrugged her shoulders, “nothing. Nothing at all. I just - can’t believe you came. I figured you’d have blown me off. ” She picked at the end of her sweater anxiously. She wished absently that she hadn’t said that to him, hadn’t given him an early reason to be upset with her. 

He took a deep breath, “I told you that I’d come, (Y/N).”

She licked her lips, “I know. I know. It just didn’t feel like you would, you know? But. I’m smiling, see?” she gave him a toothy grin, forcing her face to look joyful. “That means I’m happy that you’re here.” 

He turned his body on the bench to be able to better look at her, though she remained facing forward, away from him. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his leg. The two sat in silence for a moment, Bucky looking down at his hands in his lap and (Y/N) looking out at the water. Neither knew what to say or what to do. How to feel or how to fix anything. There was a tension between the two of them that was damn near tangible. He was beginning to regret coming to Ohio already. 

She cleared her throat, desperate for something to talk about. Something to fill the silence between them so that her thoughts wouldn’t consume her. “I stole this sweater from the costume department here. The kids hated it, I thought it was cute. Right?”

Bucky chuckled, leaning back just a bit to be able to see the sweater. The black material it was made out of looked itchy, and the floral pattern that had been stitched in to cup the breasts was all but flattering. “Not really,” he said honestly, chuckling to convey a sense of levity. He didn’t want her to feel insulted. She found herself giving him a genuine smile this time, one brought on by his chuckle. Any type of laugh of his still remained her favorite sound. 

“Yeah, I guess it does sort of make me look like Daisy Mae, huh?” 

The two laughed together at her comparison, Bucky reaching out to pull at the hem of the sweater investigatively. His suspicions about the itchiness of the fabric being proved correct. (Y/N) playfully swatted his hand away, smoothing out her sweater. “See, we’re laughing,” she pointed out, turning her head to look at him. “I think we’re gonna be okay,” she added on as more of a whisper to herself than a confession to him. She didn’t think anything, not really, but oh how she hoped. 

Bucky gave her a nod, smiling a little, showing off his perfect teeth and his expression looked softer than when he’d arrived. (Y/N) hoped in some small part of her brain that what she had said was true. That they /would/ be better, after all. “I mean,” she continued. “We’ll have to try a little harder. Bend a little, work on compromising and not fighting about everything. But, I think we can do it. I mean, look! You actually made it to Ohio for me. Who knows where else we can go? Maybe we can take a trip, like we used to do? Get into the car and drive for a while. Yeah?”

Bucky’s smile spread wider, and he gave her another nod. “I’d like that,” he acknowledged, reaching out to take her hand in his. She felt comforted, something that hadn’t happened in more months than she could count. She gave his hand a squeeze and let him rest his chin on her shoulder. She missed when he was affectionate with her, when he would show her he cared rather than just mumble that he loved her. 

“I really think you’re gonna like this show I’ve been working on with the campers,” she said with hope in her voice. “I’m pretty sure it doesn’t suck. It’s been nice to be able to write something and watch it come to life. I never was particularly fond of writing plays, but. This ones not too bad, really. The kids seem to like it alright. Well. They like it as much as a group of kids likes anything they’re being forced to do.” 

He laughed at the thought of her trying to wrangle young campers together to perform a play she’d written, and she couldn’t help but laugh with him. His laugh was infectious. “See, you’re laughing again. You’re here, and you’re mine, and we’re happy… We’re doing fine.” She said, reassuring herself more than telling him. He was the one to give her hand a squeeze this time, bringing it up to kiss the back of it in the affectionate way he’d used to do. She felt her heart swell a little bit. 

“If you say so,” he finally said, letting their hands lower to rest against her thigh. His chin returned to her shoulder and his nose nuzzled her cheek. She smiled contentedly at the action, inhaling deeply through her nose. 

“I do.. And look. I think we can both see what could be better about us. What we could do to make things work better. I’ll own up to it when I’m wrong about something, which I know you’ve been wanting me to do. And… Fuck, with everything we’ve had to go through together, I’m sure we’ll end up twice as strong as we once were. We could start again this weekend. Begin rebuilding what we’ve lost of us. We’ll just slowly pick the pieces back up. I’m under no delusions that it’s going to be easy. Or that it’s not going to take work. But I’m willing. For us.” 

Bucky kissed her cheek softly and she waited impatiently for him to speak. For him to agree and tell her that it would be fine, after all. For him to tell her he’d put in an effort with her. That he appreciated the strides she was willing to make, and that he’d meet her half way and do the same. When nothing was said after what felt like an hour, (Y/N)’s heart sank again. Her metaphorical balloon deflating more rapidly than it had inflated. She shook his hand off of hers like he’d just broken the bones of it, standing from the bench to walk to the edge of the pier where she could be closer to the water. She wanted desperately just to jump in and swim away. 

“Listen, baby, c’mere.” Bucky called to her, standing up from the bench. He closed the distance between them, holding his hand out to her to take. She turned and sighed, taking his hand. “C’mere,” he repeated, pulling her to him. “I have to head back this weekend, I can’t stay. I’ve got press that I’ve got to do…”

(Y/N)’s face fell, “oh.” She whispered, licking her lips to give herself a quick second to process what he’d just said. “I didn’t know you had to go so soon. I thought you said you were going to be here. I assumed we had time…” 

“I know, baby. I’m sorry, it’s the stupid company wanting to get more steam behind the movie. I wish I could get out of it.” Bucky sounded sincere and (Y/N) almost regretted feeling heartbroken. Surely he was just as upset about having to go as she was.

“Look, whatever. If you have to, then you have to. It’s alright,” she smiled reassuringly up at him, smoothing his hair back a little. “We’ll have tonight.”

Bucky shook his head, frowning as he did so. He dropped her hands and bit his lip to give himself a chance to gather his words and ignore the hurt that was evident in her eyes. “Actually,” he began. “We won’t babe. I’m so sorry. The only flight out of here back to New York is tonight. I’m leaving in an hour or so, I only came to see you for a second.” 

(Y/N) clenched her jaw, stepping back and away from him to rest her hands on her hips. “You know what makes me crazy? I’m sorry, but, can I say this?” She walked around him, heading for the end of the pier. “You know what makes me nuts? The fact that we could be together here,” she gestured around herself. “I know you hate being around me right now, for whatever insane reason you came up with this week, but. We could be  _ together _ , here and tonight. We could be sharing our time and working on this pitiful excuse for a marriage. But instead you are choosing someone else to be with, like always. ”

He glared at her, “that’s not true! I’m not choosing someone else to be with, (Y/N).”

“No, you are,” she argued. 

He groaned, “I’m not! I have to go to this for work. I’m not picking someone else.”

(Y/N) scoffed, “yes, Bucky, that’s exactly what you’re doing! Here, let me lay this out for you. You’ve got your two options; you could be here with me, or be there with them. As usual, guess which you pick?” 

He flared his nostrils a bit, moving his jaw a little in frustration. “I told you, (Y/N)! I’m not picking them. I have to go to this!”

“No, Bucky. You do not have to go to another stupid press thing, if that’s even what this is, where you’ll be seeing the same twenty jerks you already know! You could stay with your wife on her fucking birthday. Do you know how horrible this makes me feel, Bucky? Leaving me on -” She shook her head, taking a deep breath. “And you know, you could /God forbid/, even see this show I’ve been working on. Like I have to see every stupid movie you do. You know, because I actually give a shit about you. And I know how much it must be driving you crazy that you’re not home with your girlfriend. But, you could at least still pretend to care for my sake.”

Bucky’s face instantly showed his anger and annoyance, “(Y/N) you’re crazy!”

She shook her head, anger showing in her eyes, heartbreak showing in the way she shook her hand in front of herself. “No, I’m not. No I’m not! You know that, and you’re only calling me crazy to - to take the conversation off of yourself. But the point is, Bucky, that you can’t spend a single day that’s not about you! Not even /my/ birthday. Everything has to be about /you/, and you, and /nothing/ but you! The marvelous movie star, /you/. Oh, God. Isn’t he wonderful? The break we’ve been looking for! It’s literally always /you/ and /you/ and nothing but /you/. Miles and piles of /you/! Jesus Christ, you’re the only person in this marriage. It’s just you and your fucking ego. You and your affairs. You and /you/. I can’t -” (Y/N) stopped talking, tears brimming her eyes. 

Bucky rest his hands on his hips, his posture defensive. (Y/N) could nearly feel the anger rolling off of him, he always did hate when the two of them fought. Especially when he was the problem. It was easier for him when he could blame everything on her, when he could tell her that she was the one that’d fucked everything up for them. That she was the reason they were fighting and they were falling apart. If he kept her thinking she was the problem, it made it easier to hide from the truth. It was so easy to point the finger of blame, but would never let it land on himself. 

(Y/N) bit her tongue softly between her teeth, watching him carefully with narrowed eyes, tears slowly rolling down her cheeks. She couldn’t stand the sight of him. The sight of someone she once would have given anything for, who now wouldn’t even give her the time of day. She wished she didn’t love him. Wished that she didn’t have his stupid ring feeling heavy on her finger. Wished she would have never met him five years ago and been hooked on him. She waited with a heavy heart for him to say something. For him to apologize and pull her into a hug. To kiss her on the top of the head and tell her that he loved her. That it was going to be okay. That they were going to be okay. That he could miss this stupid party and stay with her. That they could be them for once. The Bucky and (Y/N) that were in love, not the Bucky and (Y/N) who barely knew each other any more. Her stomach did a lurch, unconsciously biting down harder on her tongue. She suppressed a wince, looking down at her feet, clearing her throat. 

When she looked back up at him her throat tightened uncomfortably. “I swear to God, I’ll never understand how you can stand there, straight and tall… And see that I’m crying, and not do anything at all.” She rest her hands on her waist, her fingers digging into her skin to keep her from sobbing. To keep her from breaking down and apologizing. To keep her from appeasing him and salvaging the rest of her time with him. 

Bucky rubbed his fingers against his lips, looking away from her out to the lake. He wanted to be swallowed by the water. Watching (Y/N) cry was more than he could bear but he’d be absolutely damned before he did anything to stop it. She had freaked out on him, accused him of having an affair. Accused him of being full of himself. He wouldn’t dare try comforting her now. She wouldn’t have even allowed it, he was sure. She’d yell at him, push him away like she always did. 

Bucky took in a deep breath, slowly shaking his head. “(Y/N), I’ve got to go.” 

“Whatever,” she snapped. “Go then. Tell your girlfriend I said hi.” 


	4. Moving Too Fast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky catches his first big break that sets everything for his future into motion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter. It's alright, I hope you enjoy it at least.  
Side note: I made Bucky smoke in this. I dunno why.

“Fuck!” Someone shouted from the side of the stage, kicking a metal trash can hard with the point of their shoe. Bucky snapped his head up from his script, turning to face the source of the noise. He pressed his palm flat against his thigh, pushing down in order to force his upper body straight up. His knees cracked a little when they weren’t bent.

“Everything okay?” He asked the girl who had kicked the trash can, watching her pace back and forth between the curtains of the side of the stage. She looked visibly agitated and he wanted to divide himself from her. The rest of the people in the play looked unconcerned with everything going on outside of themselves. He sighed, realizing that he was going to have to handle her himself. He crossed the stage to stand before her, folding his arms over his chest. 

The girl gave him a furious glare and Bucky held his hands up in surrender, deciding any attempts to speak to her were going to prove futile. “Right,” he nodded. “I’ll just leave you to it.” He spun on his heels, quickly marching away from the girl. He noticed the director near the front of the stage, talking with his understudy. “Hey, Jim,” he called, halting his steps on the path. “Our uh, our lead actress is having a minor meltdown. Looks like rehearsals are halted,” he snickered, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. 

Jim groaned, throwing his hands up into the air. “What’s the problem now?” The director wondered, one hand going to his waist, the other rubbing at his forehead. “Everyone! Lunch!” The director shouted, walking off to comfort the now wailing actress. Bucky glanced at his understudy who gave him a shrug. Neither knew what was going to happen, or if the rehearsal would continue today. He decided he didn’t care. If the rest of the day got cancelled he could go home, call (Y/N), and hopefully have her over for dinner. He smiled unconsciously at the thought. 

“I’m going outside,” he called to his understudy, needing someone to know where he was in case someone needed him. The understudy nodded, his attention quickly getting pulled away from Bucky by one of the actresses that played a minor role tugging on his sleeve. Bucky exited the stage, winding through the back area until he found the exit door. Throwing it open he had to squint in the sunlight. “Jesus,” he grumbled, heading for a shaded area between the backlot of the theater and the other building.

He dug around in his pocket, trying to find his packet of cigarettes and lighter. His fingers slipped over the plastic of his lighter and he withdrew it from his pocket followed by his cigarettes. As he was pulling one out to slip between his lips, his phone began humming against his skin. He rolled his eyes, fishing his phone out of his pocket, automatically sliding his finger on the answer button without giving a look to the caller ID. “Hello?” 

A soft feminine voice on the other end greeted him, “hello! I’m looking for a James Barnes. Is he available?”

“Yeah, hi. This is James, but please, call me Bucky.”

“Hello, Bucky!” The voice sounded more cheerful than when the phone was first answered. “My name is Elizabeth Whitfield. I was going through some of the audition tapes that had passed through my door today and was entirely captured by yours.”

Bucky’s eyes widened in shock, the unlit cigarette between his fingers falling to the ground. “You-you saw my audition tape? For what? I mean - I should say how?” 

He heard Elizabeth make an amused noise, “a man named Jim Adler. He’s a friend of a friend and he passed it along. Like I said, I had just gotten around to watching some of the tapes and I’m calling because I really liked yours.”

He could barely control his excited breathing as he listened to her speak. His pulse was pounding in his neck. “Right, of course Mr. Adler sent it in. That’s - that’s great. I - I - thank you for watching it.”

“Of course,” Elizabeth laughed. “Now let me get a few things correct, make sure we have the right information about you. You’ve never booked a professional gig before, correct?”

Bucky nodded his head, “yeah-yes. Is that a problem?”

Elizabeth sighed, “no, of course not. And you didn’t go to any kind of school did you? Adler included in his note about you that you were some sort of ‘natural talent’.”

He laughed, “he said that? I mean, no I didn’t go to school. I mean. I did a little bit of theater in high school if that counts?”

“Sure,” Elizabeth’s voice sounded like she was amused with him. “Listen, Bucky. I’m casting someone for a role in a movie and I was wondering if you could make it in for a meeting? A sort of audition?”

“Yes, yeah! Of course. Where, where do you need me to meet you?”

“Well, I would need you to make it to New York-”

Bucky cut her off, “oh! I live here, that’s no problem.”

Elizabeth didn’t sound disturbed by his interruption, simply continuing on in her cheerful voice. “Wonderful! Well could you manage to come in today, sometime before say, five o’clock? Do you know where the Flatiron building is? On 5th?” 

Bucky’s eyes felt like they managed to get even wider than possible, his breathing nearly completely spiratic with excitement and nerves. “Yes, yes! Of course I do. I will uh, I’ll get there. I will be there!”

“Wonderful, just ask for me when you reach the front desk.”

“Great, okay. I will, thank you. I am so - so looking forward to meeting you, Ms. Whitfield.” 

On the other end of the line, she laughed, “please, call me Elizabeth.”

“Okay, Elizabeth,” Bucky laughed, shaking his head, his hand so tight on his phone it was practically shaking. “It’s kind of like we’re friends,” he acknowledged, laughing a little, feeling embarrassed the moment the words left his mouth. 

“I look forward to meeting you, Bucky. I’ll see you soon.” 

“Okay, great. Great, I’ll see you soon too. Goodbye Ms. Whi - Elizabeth.” 

The line went dead and he pulled the phone from his ear, staring at it in utter shock. “What?” He asked his phone through a choked laugh. He looked around the empty back lot for someone, anyone, convinced he was being pranked. That he hadn’t just gotten called for an interview, audition, whatever it was. He ran his hand through his hair, trying to breathe, trying to gather his thoughts. Trying desperately to wrap his head around the fact that,  _ he finally was getting his shot _ . Someone somewhere was acknowledging him past the small theaters where he would perform stupid plays he didn’t care for. 

He dragged his hand down his face, a smile never leaving his lips. He wanted to rush into the theater and grab Mr. Adler by his face, shake the man and thank him a hundred times for even bothering to send someone his tape. His stupidly made, poorly edited tape wherein he showed his acting chops. He laughed a little, jumping off the stoop he was stood on, shaking his fists around in the air, his nerves and happiness obvious in the way he moved.

He had been getting more parts in plays, sure. But he never anticipated that he would make it to the point where someone called  _ him _ . That suddenly he would be starring in some stupid run-of-the-mill production and he’d be receiving a request to come meet with someone for a  _ real movie _ . He was floored, completely and utterly flabbergasted as he pulled another smoke from his pack, managing to light this one as his mind began racing. 

He was already feeling like things were too good. That he was already too lucky in his life. He had enough money from working for this play that he was able to finally get his old car up and running. Hell, even working to a point where he didn’t have to struggle to get it to start every day. Bucky smoked his cigarette languidly as he thought of everything that was shaping up for him, and his body felt full and overwhelmed. 

He dropped the cigarette butt to the floor and stomped on it, needing to get his things and leave before he started freaking out during rehearsal. He wiped his hands on his pants, jogging back into the theater. “Jim,” he called, walking to the side of the stage where he had last seen him. “Jim!” He shouted, looking around for him. 

“Stop shouting,” Jim groaned, standing up from the chair he had made himself comfortable in. “What’s going on, Bucky? What do you need?”

Bucky’s smile was so big and bright it completely caught Jim off guard, causing him to take a step back. “You -” he laughed, shaking his head. “You - you gave someone that tape I gave you?”

Jim rubbed the back of his neck, looking bashful. “Look, Bucky. It was nothing, and you don’t have to say anything about it. Okay?”

Bucky shook his head, “not say anything? Are you kidding me? I just - I just got a call from someone at the studio. A Ms. Witfield… She wants me to come in  _ today _ for an audition. I can’t believe it!” Bucky grabbed Jim in a hug, squeezing him tight. 

“Well,” Jim laughed, pushing Bucky away from him. “What the hell are you doing here? Go home, get changed. Get yourself put together for your audition.”

Bucky nodded, like the words Jim had just spoken to him were the greatest thing ever said. “Right!” He laughed, turning away from him. “Thank you, Jim!” He called over his shoulder as he jogged for the theaters exit. Jim watched him with amusement, shaking his head in disbelief at the boy. 

“Hey kid!” Jim called to him. “Don’t fuck it up!” 

Bucky stopped jogging when he was back outside in the sun. He scrolled through his contacts on his phone for a moment, finding (Y/N)’s number. He smiled as he pressed the call button, returning his phone to his ear. 

(Y/N) answered the phone on the third ringing sounding caught off guard, “Bucky?”

He couldn’t help but give a soft, affectionate smile when he heard her voice. “Hey, baby.” His own voice was warm and loving, “I’ve been thinking about what you said, and… Let’s move in together.” He bit on the knuckle of his index finger when he finished his sentence, smiling against the skin. 

He heard (Y/N)’s bewildered laugh and hoped that he wasn’t too late. That she hadn’t changed her mind and decided to rescind her suggestion or offer, or whatever it had been. His teeth sunk deeper into his knuckle, verging on painful. “Okay,” she finally said after letting him sweat it for long enough. “Okay! Yes, let’s do it. God, really though? Are you serious?”

He withdrew his knuckle from between his teeth, smiling like a fool again. He wished his face wouldn’t look so gleeful, but he didn’t know how to stop it. Didn’t know how to tamper down the sheer elation that was pumping through his veins with the beat of his heart. “Yes, I’m serious. Just, find us an apartment, okay? I love you.”

“I love you too, but, Bucky… Bucky, wait! What happened?”

He laughed, “I’ll tell you later. I gotta go, baby. I love you!” Bucky hung up, not waiting for her response, pushing his phone into his pocket the moment the line went dead. He took in a breath deep enough to make his head feel a little light. His feet moved quickly underneath him, propelling him to his car. When he got in he let out a yell, smiling bigger than he thought his face would allow. He was in utter disbelief of his life as his car roared to life.

“Who the hell are you?” He asked, pulling out of his parking spot to head out onto the street, joining the slow moving traffic that was pushing along. He had a woman he loved, and who loved him in return. A job that he didn’t mind, and an audition for something bigger, something better. Bucky laughed, shaking his head as he rolled the window down, sticking his arm out to rest on the edge. “I’ve got a feeling that things are moving too fast,” he told himself. “But God do I want it to keep on rolling.” 

\--

Bucky wiped his sweating palms on the denim of his best jeans, trying to calm himself down as he waited for the elevator to take him up to the floor he needed. His mind was swirling in circles, nothing makes sense. Air felt like it was alluding his lungs every time he tried inhaling. He was sure he was on the verge of having a panic attack. 

The doors of the elevator opened and he held his breath, mustering up the courage to step off of it. The lobby of the floor he’d arrived at already felt too gaudy for him. Too rich and successful. A schmuck kid from Indiana didn’t belong being auditioned in a place like this. A place that put out esteemed movies, movies that he should only ever dream of becoming a part of. The last time he’d been here, for the initial audition, he hadn’t made it past the first floor. Had only met Elizabeth and been lead to a boring white room that looked almost clinical. He dreaded finding out what was in store for him now that he’d actually been invited up to her office. 

The woman at the desk looked bored, like she would rather be anywhere else but where she was currently. She rolled his eyes when Bucky stopped before her, looking up at him with an expression that made him want to retreat within his own skin. “Can I help you?” She asked, more condescending than he figured she should be. 

“Uh, yes, hi…” He cleared his throat, desperately trying to remember his own name, let alone the name of the woman he was meant to be meeting. “I’m here to see - to see Elizabeth Whitfield.” 

A man who had been lounging against the desk with his back to Bucky immediately turned around, looking like he’d been caught with his fly down. “Are you Bucky Barnes?” The man asked, looking Bucky over with an appraising eye. 

“Yes, I am.” 

The man’s smile was full and bright, he looked like he would be really good at selling shoes. A thought Bucky was surprised to have. “Oh, wonderful! Follow me, Mr. Barnes. Elizabeth is so excited to see you,” the man took off to the left and Bucky immediately followed in his stride, eyes darting around the offices. If someone were to hook a monitor up to his chest at that very moment, he would read on the verge of having a massive heart attack. 

The man stopped abruptly and Bucky looked into an office with a wall made of windows on one side, and the wall with the entry door made of glass. He couldn’t imagine the salary of the woman who had stood from her chair the moment she saw them approach. The man pushed the door open, unable to introduce Bucky, the woman beating him to it. “Bucky,” she exclaimed, holding her hand out for him to shake. He returned her enthusiastic smile, shaking her hand adamantly. “It’s so wonderful to see you again, please come in.” 

Bucky walked into her office and the man who had led him to it shut the door behind them, walking away from the office without so much as a goodbye. “Wow,” he breathed out heavily. He rubbed his hands against his thighs, noticing that they had gotten sweaty again. “This office is incredible,” he acknowledged, looking over at the view her office had.

“Thank you,” Elizabeth glanced out the window before sighing a bit. “Would you like something to drink? Water, coffee, tea?”

Bucky shook his head, “no, thank you.”

She gave him a smile, walking around her desk to sit behind it, crossing her legs at the knees. “So!” She clapped her hands together before leaning forward, resting her arms on the desk. Bucky followed her lead, taking a seat in one of the two chairs across from her, holding his hands together tightly in his lap. It took everything he had to keep his knee from bouncing with anxiety. “The director and producers loved your audition. And, well,” The smile spread across her lips was verging on creepy in it’s happiness. Bucky swallowed thickly, watching her carefully. 

“Well, Bucky… We want to formally offer you the part.” 

Bucky leaned back in his chair, the air from his lungs rushing out in a disbelieving huff. He was definitely going to have a heart attack. “What?” He asked after a moment of processing. His voice sounded like a mix of a laugh and groan. “Are you - are you serious? Elizabeth, you want to give me the part?” 

She nodded, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. Bucky ran his hand through his hair, letting out a laugh. “Jesus Christ,” he whispered to himself. “Elizabeth, this is incredible. I mean - Thank you. Thank you, wow.” He shook his head. His brain had utterly stopped working. Any thought halted immediately, any hope he had to sound like a well spoken and coherent member of society thrown out the door the moment she said he’d gotten the part. His heartbeat was pounding in his ears.

Elizabeth pulled a packet of papers from a drawer in her desk while she allowed Bucky to have a moment to freak out, finding a pen that worked from the mess that was a drawer she never wanted anyone to venture into. “If you’re willing to accept the role,” she pushed the papers across the surface of the desk so that they were closer to him. “You’re going to need to fill out this mountain of paperwork. By the time you’re done your signature won’t even look real to you,” she joked, setting the pen down on top of the papers. Bucky reached out and picked it up immediately, not wanting to give himself a second to think it was a dream. 

“Once everything has been filed and processed and we make sure all of our I’s are dotted and our T’s are crossed, I’ll call you again to set you up for a meeting with the director.” Elizabeth explained, leaning back against her chair, crossing her arms over her stomach. “You should get the script in the mail sometime this week. It’ll be brought by courier though, so please make sure that you have someone there to sign for it.” 

“I uh, I’m actually in the process of moving right now. Do you - is there any way that I could come by to pick it up?” 

Elizabeth shrugged, “sure. I’ll make a note of that right now and call you when it’s here.” She leaned forward and moved the mouse to her computer, clicking on a few things before rapidly typing on her keyboard. Bucky wondered how she got to be such a fast typer, figuring that it came with the job. 

“I really, I can’t thank you enough,” Bucky started thumbing through the paperwork, eyes skimming over their contents as he signed. “This is honestly going to change my life, and you have no idea how bad I have wanted this. God, thank you, Elizabeth.”

He didn’t look up when she snorted a laugh, “don’t thank me, Bucky.” Elizabeth uncrossed her legs and crossed them again, changing the knee that was on top. “You got yourself the job kid, I just invited you.” 

Bucky smiled despite being distracted by trying to remember his social security number for the paperwork. “You’re wonderful,” he mumbled, sticking his tongue between his teeth to bite on while he concentrated. He had never had to fill out so much information about himself in his life. 

When the packet of paperwork was complete Bucky was convinced he’d developed arthritis. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, though he still managed to make himself feel terrible for feeling like he’d taken too long. Elizabeth took the pen back from him and dropped it into the drawer to be lost again, accepting the paperwork when he pushed it towards her. Elizabeth smiled happily at him, “thank you for getting all of this done for me, Bucky.”

“No, please. Thank you for giving me a job,” Bucky laughed. Elizabeth stood from her chair, Bucky dutifully copying her. She held her hand out to him, giving him a million dollar smile. The two shook hands. 

“Congratulations, Bucky. I look forward to seeing you on the big screen,” Elizabeth winked at him, and Bucky felt a twist in his stomach.  _ The big screen _ , Bucky repeated to himself within his head, swallowing hard. He couldn’t believe it was official. He was going to be a  _ real  _ actor. 

-

Bucky took the stairs to the second floor two at a time, hand fisted around an envelope. “Babe!” He shouted, clumsily tripping over a box that had been placed beside the staircase. “Fuck,” he grunted, regaining his footing. He took a second to check he hadn’t twisted his ankle before dodging a mover who was coming out of the open door to his new apartment, beaming a smile when he saw (Y/N) standing at the fireplace, trying to clean the mirror above it. “Babe!” He shouted again making her jump in fright. 

(Y/N) turned around, hand on her chest. “You scared the shit out of me,” she laughed, hurrying over to wrap her arms around him in a hug, kissing him softly. “God I didn’t think you’d ever get home you jerk.” She let go of him, noticing the envelope. “What’s that?” She asked, pointing at it. 

Bucky smiled, holding the envelope to his chest. “Well, maybe I won’t tell you, keep you in suspense.” 

(Y/N) laughed, trying to pull the envelope from him. “Bucky!” She whined, laughing in exasperation. Bucky tapped his lips, winking at her when she finally caught on. She leaned up and gave him another kiss. He smiled, letting the envelope go. 

“You are holding my very first paycheck from the movie, babe.” 

(Y/N) pulled the check out of the envelope, her jaw dropping in shock. “Bucky!” She shouted, looking at the amount before looking up at him. “You’re fucking me, right?” She asked, holding the check up.

Bucky laughed, “well not right now. But probably later tonight.” He winked, receiving a smack to the chest for his joke. “Looks like we’re gonna be able to afford this apartment baby.” 

(Y/N) shrieked a laugh, wrapping her arms around his neck, peppering his face with kisses. “Baby, I’m so proud of you.” She whispered against his cheek, knotting her fingers in his hair. “I am so, so proud of you,” she repeated, moving to press her forehead against his. “You’re doing it, baby. You’re making it.”

Bucky held his arms around her tightly, pressing their bodies tighter than should be possible. “I love you,” was all he could manage to say. 


	5. A Part of That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y/N goes to a party for Bucky and talks to someone about her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was busy as all hell these last few weeks, and I just got a new puppy. So. That's why there was an update so far apart. My apologies. As for this chapter, I really enjoy how it's written! (-: Enjoy! As always, feedback is appreciated! I adore y'all.

(Y/N) accepted a glass offered to her by a girl who had a tray balanced on the flattened palm of her right hand, giving her a grateful smile as she sipped from the flute. She was lost in the crowd again, watching everyone move around like snakes in a pit, slithering past one another. They all had the same fake smiles plastered on their lips, the same painfully forced expressions being made from face to face. She wondered if they were all as tired of the charade as she was. 

She found herself a seat at one of the unoccupied tables, noting how ugly the blue table cloth was. There was a spattering of confetti on the table top, looking tacky and out of place in the otherwise nicely decorated party. She’d become used to the way that these parties were decorated, to the way that these elites wanted things. She could have taken up a business as a high end party planner if she wanted to, sure that she could make a pretty penny by actually spicing up the parties for once. (Y/N) thought bitterly that if she had to see another ugly centerpiece with fake gems she would bash her brains in. 

She finished the champagne she’d accepted from the waitress and set the glass down near the edge of the table, watching someone take it almost immediately. She rested her clutch across her thighs and sighed, returning her attention to the people wandering around. She perked a little hearing a laugh that was too familiar to her. Her eyes found him in the crowd, their eyes meeting after a beat. He winked, giving her a warm smile before his attention was taken by someone else. Again. 

God, that was it. That was all it took for her to be willing to do this all of the time. It was always the same routine. Bucky would get a call from his publicist inviting him to another party. He would always agree to go. And then he’d turn to her and tell her that he needed to go, and ask her if she would come with him. Say, “_ please babe. I don’t wanna go to this stupid thing alone _.” And of course she would, she always did. Always agreed to come with him, and play the role of loving, doting wife. Because that’s what she was. That’s what she would always be. His happy, loving wife who supported her husband in everything he did. Everything he pursued. She would put on one of the many dresses she’d been forced to buy, and do her makeup nice. He’d compliment her, tell her she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. Though, the adjective always changed. He always made sure she felt wonderful about herself before they left. And they’d file into his car, and he’d thank her for coming with him, she’d say it was no problem. Because, really, it wasn’t. How could it be? He was her husband, hadn’t she agreed to this? For better or for worse, according to her vows. She couldn’t tell which one this was. 

(Y/N) frowned a little when she saw someone approaching her, forcing herself to wipe it off of her lips in exchange for a smile. The woman who was walking towards her gestured to the seat across from her and she sighed, nodding her head to let the woman know she was welcomed to sit down with her. The woman looked familiar in a passing way, like she’d seen her around once or twice before at one of these parties. She pulled the chair out and sat down, making herself comfortable on the cushioned seat. She looked her over appraisingly, wondering who she was and how important her title could be. She didn’t look like she was a big-wig or any type of executive, but she seemed interested enough in (Y/N). The woman set her clutch down atop the table, licking her tongue over her lipstick that was beginning to get flaky. “Hello,” the woman greeted, smiling at her. “My name is Cat, I’m one of the dozens of reporters they invited here tonight.” Cat introduced, holding her hand out to (Y/N) to shake. She did. 

“Nice to meet you, Cat. I’m (Y/N).”

Cat nodded, like she already knew who she was talking to. She figured she did. It wasn’t often that people talked to her without already knowing who her husband was. It was an absolute rarity that someone came up to her without an ulterior motive. They never wanted to just talk to her, become her friend. They always had some story they wanted to get, an exclusive they hoped that she would give them. And she never did. Nothing too interesting at least. Never told them something that wasn’t already well known by everyone else. She respected her husband's privacy. Their privacy. Didn’t feel comfortable sharing anything that she and Bucky hadn’t discussed would be okay before. 

“So,” Cat began, holding her hand up for a waitress to see. Someone came over and put a glass in her hand. “You’re Bucky’s wife, right?” (Y/N) consciously made an effort to keep her expression cheerful, nodding her head in confirmation. She didn’t need a reporter telling the world that the wife of Bucky Barnes was some kind of standoffish-bitch. She felt it was her duty to make sure that she never was the reason he got bad press. 

“What’s living with him like?” Cat inquired, and (Y/N) wondered why she hadn’t pulled out a recorder or a notepad or something to take down her exact statement. Maybe Cat just had a really good memory, she decided. 

“It’s uh, it’s interesting. I mean, one minute he and I are just like leave it to beaver. We have a typical life. We both work, we both come home exhausted, we make time for each other. And then suddenly, almost over night, he’s this… This someone.” She shrugged her shoulders, pushing her (y/h/c) curls away from her brow. “Then the next thing I know he’s off on a trip to some other world. Some place off in Bucky-land where he removes himself from me, from the world, and engrosses himself in his character.” 

“That sounds like it can be upsetting,” Cat observed, sipping from her glass. 

She shook her head, “oh. No. I mean, no.” She looked around and hailed down a waiter, getting another flute of champagne from them before she continued to speak to Cat. “He’s still the Bucky I love, you know? It’s like they’re just moments to him, seconds where he just disappears and then he’s back. To me it could be hours, but. It’s fine.” She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s like. When he’s practicing for his role, he’s not my husband anymore, he’s that role. It could happen one day, and then the next it’s like it never even occurred at all. He’s my same old Bucky. And of course I never say anything about it because, why would I? He’s an actor, he’s practicing his role. I’m proud of him and I support him, and I don’t want to take him out of his element. You know?” 

(Y/N) sipped from the flute, adjusting her legs to cross them at the ankles. “It’s like we could be making dinner one night, making plans, just talking. And before I know it he’s on the mule train to fantasy-land and he’s checked out again. He’s decided he wants to go over his script or run his lines, and so I let him. I sit back and I watch him, because I love him. And it’s such a wonder getting to see someone do something they’re _ really _ talented in. It’s such a private and intimate thing and I love that I am the only person he shares it with. I’m the one who gets to watch him shovel handful after handful of doritos into his mouth while reading over his script. I’m the one that gets to watch him circle the apartment, logging miles. Rattling off his lines in different tones with different inflections to his voice. I get to be a part of all of that. But… I don’t know…” She trailed off, voice getting lower. “Sometimes, it feels like I’m just a member of Bucky-land. You know?”

Cat finished her drink, smiling warmly at her. She couldn’t tell if she was oversharing or not, though she knew she wasn’t sharing anything bad. Cat had asked what it was like living with him, she was just giving an honest answer. Her fingers began fiddling with the hem of her skirt, bunching it up between her fingers. A part of her felt bad for sharing this much information, this much of a look into their personal life. However a bigger part of herself, a part of herself that felt like it was getting lost behind the shadow of her husband wanted to share everything. Felt wonderful finally having an outlet for everything she’d been experiencing. Everything that she had to deal with on a constant basis. It wasn’t bad, it wasn’t like her husband was mean to her or hurt her. It was just like he forgot about her. Like she was an afterthought in his big expansive life. 

“How do you continue dealing with that?” 

She looked from her dress up to Cat, taking a moment to try figuring out the best way to answer her. The reason why she puts up with everything, puts up with being lost to her husband. Puts up with being at these stupid parties, with these people she doesn’t know or like. Always slightly tipsy and completely bored. Ignored by her husband save ten minutes of the night when he can slip away and see her. Why she didn’t throw the towel in and give up when things got to be a little rocky. She sipped her glass before answering, “because I love him. But, beyond that… It’s his smile…”

“His smile?” Cat repeated, sounding more confused than anything. 

She nodded, shrugging her shoulders like her answer was obvious. “Yeah, his smile… His eyes light up, and his whole face softens. When he smiles at me it’s like I’m the only thing that matters to him in that moment. And how can I complain? How can I ever give that up? Not want him to give me that look every single day?” She shook her head, smiling softly to herself, thinking of the man who owned her heart. She would put up with nearly anything for him.

“You must really love him,” Cat observed, getting another drink. 

“I do.” 

The two girls sat in silence for a moment while her eyes scanned the crowd for her husband again. She was beginning to get worried when she didn’t immediately spot him, wondering where he had gone or if he’d forgotten her completely. He’d never gone home without her, but there was a first time for everything she was sure. When her eyes finally found him he was leaning against the bar set off to one side of the room, talking animatedly to a few people while holding onto a glass. She sighed, watching him for a moment while he talked. He was flailing, awkward mess most of the time until he got a drink inside of him. He would loosen up, become more of the man he was at home. 

Bucky realized that she was watching him again, realized that her eyes were on him and he gave her a loving smile. A smile that once again sent her heart soaring. She was reminded of how he was her sun, of how she was just meant to orbit around him. That she was just this small little planet being moved around the man of her dreams, the love of her life. God, she hated herself for being such a cliche. For making her love sound like something from generic romantic comedies. Calling Bucky her sun? She wanted to smack herself for being so annoyingly boring. 

She had no other way to describe him, though. Had nothing better in her writers mind to encompass the man that she had married. To describe their relationship. She didn’t know what other analogy she could make that would encompass the two better. 

She was about to stand from her seat, to make her way across the party and join her betrothed at his side, when she became aware of Cat’s presence again. She had managed to get herself another drink. Was lazily sipping at it. She watched Cat set her glass down on the blue cloth, focusing on her nicely manicured fingers. In that moment she realized Cat wasn’t a reporter, like originally told. She was another tag-along. Another girlfriend or wife dragged around like luggage by whomever had her heart. She wanted to pity the girl across the table from her. 

“What do you do?” Cat asked, catching her off guard. Her eyebrows furrowed, her confusion evident in her face. 

“What do I do?” She repeated, processing what Cat had meant. “Oh, I’m uh. I’m a writer, sort of… I haven’t been published or anything but I am certainly working on it.”

Cat nodded, dancing her finger around the rim of her champagne flute. “Right, that’s cool. Does your husband encourage you?” 

(Y/N)’s heart sunk a bit. She let out a heavy sigh, gnawing on the inside of her lip anxiously. “Of course,” she responded instinctively. It wasn’t like she was lying, she figured. He did support her. Bucky always supported her, in everything. That was what he did. He was her supporter and she was his. That’s what marriage was, wasn’t it? A support system. She went back to fiddling with her skirt again, taking deep breaths. (Y/N) thought about all of the times she gave up staying home to write, to work on her manuscripts, to edit and rewrite. Of all the countless hours she could have been working on her own career wasted because she chose to put it on the back burner for his. Chose to go with him to another party, to another show, another premier. When she would leave the room to allow him to practice his lines alone. 

Her stomach knotted. She always seemed to follow in his stride rather than side by side with her husband. He was the big-shot movie star, the one who was starring in major motion pictures. The top billed name on the roster, and she? She was a struggling writer who couldn’t even sell something to a television show. Couldn’t ever get past the ‘we appreciate you sending this in’ stage. And she wasn’t mad. No, she would never be mad at him for that. She understood that everything happened for a reason. That she wasn’t as successful yet because she wasn’t meant to be. She was content with allowing herself to be shrouded by his shadow, to be just ‘Bucky Bucky’s wife’ rather than ‘(Y/N), the writer’. She would never blame him for that. He had never asked her to put her life on hold for his. Though, secretly, she wished for a thank you. An acknowledgement. 

She lifted her eyes, struggling to keep herself from getting upset. “Would you excuse me?” She asked Cat who simply nodded her head. She grabbed her clutch off of her thighs and stood, walking away from the table. She held her clutch close to her chest, carefully winding her way through the party, searching for the balcony where she could get some fresh air. No one stopped her, no one even acknowledged that she was walking past them, brushing against them as she walked. They were too engrossed in their conversations, in their elbows rubbing and their ass kissing. She wondered if they ever got tired of the sounds of their voices. She knew she certainly did. 

She threw the door to the balcony open, stepping out into the chilled air. She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes for a few beats of her heart. She didn’t know why she felt so upset. It was stupid. She’d thought about everything like this before. Had realized that her career and her life came second to her husband, and she’d never been bothered by it before. 

Then again, she felt particularly ignored tonight. A few of his wonderful smiles wasn’t enough to keep the pit of her stomach from aching with longing. She wished that he would come back to her. Would forget the parties for once and just be content to lay in their bed together watching Gilmore Girls reruns and eating junk food. Would be happy just to hold her in his arms and let her love him. 

Of course, that was only a pipe dream. Any advancement he could make in his career he would take. He would schmooze with the rest of them until he was the best of them. 

She felt a hand on her shoulder that made her jump. She turned to look at the owner of the hand, smiling softly when she noticed it was him. “Hi, baby.” She smiled sweetly and allowed him to give her a hug, kissing his cheek before he let her go. “Why’re you out here?”

“I saw you come out so I wanted to check on you, make sure you’re doing okay?”

She nodded, “oh, yeah babe. I’m fine.” She reassured. She didn’t need him thinking that he’d upset her or that he needs to leave the party because of her. It would just cause a fight, inevitably. Would push the two apart for a night or two rather then make them happy, make them realize they needed each other. Bucky rubbed her arm softly, giving her shoulder a squeeze. 

“I’m gonna head back inside then, baby. I’ve got to talk to a few more people about this upcoming project they might bring me in on. But, I promise. We’ll leave soon. Okay?” 

She nodded, letting him kiss her cheek again before retreating back inside. There was no point in arguing. No use in pointing out that his ‘we’ll leave soon’ always meant they’d be there for another two hours at the very minimum. That they were never going to get out of this constant loop of parties and schmoozing and talking and drinking. She tilted her head a little to the side when he stopped the door from closing, “and baby.” Bucky said, smiling at her. “Remember I love you.” 

She returned his smile with as much love and affection as she could muster, “I love you too.” 

He disappeared back inside, back to the party, back to them. And she let him, she always let him. Because there was nothing she could do to stop her heart. No rules that applied to them that made any sense. She would do anything he wanted, and she knew that. So she followed him inside. And she smiled at everyone who greeted her. And she exchanged pleasantries. And she played her part like he played his. Because that’s what she was meant to do. That’s what there marriage was. And she’d be damned if she wouldn’t try for him. She took a deep breath as she accepted another glass. She was good at playing her part, too.


	6. The Schmuel Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky preforms a skit for Y/N who is having a bad day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of my absolute favorite songs/chapters/scenes, whatever. I love it. This is a Christmas inspired chapter, and the last one before the new year. (-: Please enjoy this chapter. As always, feedback is always welcome.

Bucky’s head snapped up from his script the moment he heard (Y/N)’s keys in the door, the deadbolt sliding out of action. He stood from his seat on the lumpy, old red couch, throwing his script down onto the table. “Babe,” he greeted with a bright smile, watching her walk into the apartment. She looked pissed off. Her nose was flared and her eyes were narrowed, her shoulders slumped forward in exhaustion. The corners of his mouth pulled down in his best ‘yikes’ expression, looking her over from head to toe. “How was work?” He asked, though he knew the answer. 

“I hated it,” she declared in a voice that radiated the very anger he saw in her posture and on her face. “Stupid fucking bar.” She grumbled, walking around him and past the living room. She removed her jacket from her shoulders, throwing it on the couch just before she had cleared it. He bit his bottom lip, deciding to let her change out of her work clothes before he tried talking to her. He watched her discard her shoes by her side of the bed, his hand in his fist. She was storming around the apartment like she wanted to break something, or punch something at the very least. 

“You look very nice,” Bucky tried. She gave him a glare in response. 

She wrestled the belt out of her jeans and threw it on the floor beside the bed, huffing loudly. He watched her with raised eyebrows, wondering what her next move was going to be. “Did you get good tips at least?” He ventured, being met with a grunt. 

“Are you writing a book?” (Y/N) wondered, resting her hands on her hips. “Cause, if so. You should leave this chapter out.”

Bucky frowned, he hated when his girlfriend was snappily sarcastic with him. The two were at a standstill again. She returned to changing, and he was left standing there feeling kind of bad.

“Are you working on anything tonight?” He wondered, trying again to have a conversation with her. He knew when she got like this that it would be hard to pry her out of her angry mood. 

“Like what?” She asked.

“I dunno,” he mumbled. “Maybe that story you were writing the other night? Or that episode for that show you wanted to pitch? Maybe that scrap book your friend wanted?” He stopped offering ideas when she seemed more aggravated with him. She walked out of his line of sight and he was just about to follow after her when he heard something drop. She let out a scream of anger. Bucky bound towards the bedroom just as she was storming out of the bathroom, yanking a sweater on over her head. (Y/N) didn’t say a word to him, nearly bumping into him on her walk to the couch. She laid down on her side, facing the back of the couch. Bucky’s face fell as he watched his girlfriend tuck her arms against her chest, curling up against herself. He knew her working at the bar would end badly, and he hated that he was right. 

He crossed to the couch, leaning over to pick her legs up, moving them onto his own lap when he sat down. She grumbled something he couldn’t understand. “Don’t you have a thing sometime later this week? A pitch or something?”

“I’m not going,” her voice was half muffled by the couch and the sweater bunching up around her neck. 

Bucky’s brows furrowed, “why?”

“They’re not going to buy it,” she said, adjusting her legs on his lap, rolling over just enough to be able to look at him.

“Don’t say that,” he took a deep breath. “You know that it’s good, (Y/N). You’re just upset because you had a bad day at work.” Bucky began softly rubbing her leg, giving her calve a comforting squeeze. 

“I’m saying it because I suck.”

Bucky sighed heavily, squeezing her calve again. He lifted her leg, pressing a kiss just below her knee. “You don’t suck,” he reassured. He kissed her knee again, a smile on his lips. “Hey! I have a little surprise for you, in the form of a story.”

“Baby, no, please.” 

“Come on,” he laughed, pushing her legs off of his lap to stand up.

“No, I’ve had such a shitty day,” (Y/N) whined, rolling over to her back. She crossed her arms over her chest, watching him sit down at her crafting table across the room from her. 

“I have been working on this for like, hours. So, you’re gonna sit up and listen to this for five minutes.” Bucky wrapped her measuring tape for fabrics around his neck, picking up a spindle of thread.

“You know,” (Y/N) cleared her throat. “You’re no writer or story teller, babe. You’re an actor. You remember that, right?” 

Bucky mockingly stuck his tongue out at his girlfriend, “I’ve learned a thing or two by being with you. Just. Give it a chance, okay?” 

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, “do I have a choice?” 

He laughed happily, “no. But don’t worry! It’s a Christmas story.. Sort of. You like Christmas. It’s the tale of Shmuel, the tailor from Klimovich.” 

“Is Klimovich a real place?” She snarked.

“Silence from the audience, please. Thank you,” Bucky cleared his throat. He took a second to continue, deepening his voice a tad. “Every day Schmuel would work until a little past ten at night in his little tailor shop -”

“In Klimovich?” (Y/N) interrupted, liking the way the word sounded.

“Hey, this isn’t a kindergarten group reading, babe. Keep it down.” 

She smirked, mouthing the word ‘sorry’.

Bucky nodded his acceptance of her apology, continuing with his story. He turned a little in his chair, fiddling with the fabric (Y/N) had draped over the body form she had standing in front of the desk. 

“Hey, don’t touch my things!” 

He sighed, putting his fingers to his lips. “Shmuel would sew and mend, his fingers knobby and rough from constantly handling pins. He had spent forty-one years in his little shop, creating things few could imagine him possible. He was an expert at his craft, a master some would say. He was showered with praise from anyone who purchased one of his suits, or had him alter someone else’s. He never once received a single complaint. Everyone thought Shmuel, the little old tailor, had everything he had ever wanted. But there was one thing Shmuel missed.”

“Babe,” she whined, wanting the story to end before it really began. Bucky ignored her in favor of continuing the story he’d worked so hard to come up with. 

“It was closing time at his little shop, and Shmuel was feeling particularly down about his life. You know, because when you’re old you get upset about things a lot.”

“Sounds like you,” she teased. 

“‘If I only had time’, old Shmuel said to his empty shop. The lights were all off except for the one above his sewing table. ‘I would give up the suits, and sew a dress. The gorgeous dress I’ve been thinking about for decades. A dress so beautiful it would light a fire in the hearts of any girl from here to Minsk. But I have no more time left to sew. ’ Shmuel hung his head, tears in the old man's eyes. He felt sad and remorseful over not being able to sew his dress.”

She rolled her eyes, “Klimovich and Minsk? Where the hell did you come up with these places?” He glared at her as she shifted from her back to her other side, propping her head on the arm of the couch to watch him as he mimicked what she could only assume were Shmuel’s actions. 

“Stop talking,” he repeated. She sighed, motioning with her hand for him to continue. “Just then, the clock on the wall began glowing. Shmuel grabbed at his chest in shock. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing!” Bucky leaned back against the chair, holding his hand over his heart like an old man being terrified. “The clock cried out to Shmuel, “wait, Shmuel. I have heard your words, and I am going to grant you time. Unlimited time.” 

Bucky stood from the chair, picking up an umbrella. He stretched on arm above his head and held the other out, the umbrella gripped tightly in his hand. “I’m a magical clock,” he supplied for her. 

“I got that.” She looked him over. “You know, I’ve never been more attracted to you?” 

Bucky smirked, “hush.” He took a deep breath and straightened his posture. “The clocks hands began reversing.” He did a spin, conveying the clocks actions. “And it called to Shmuel, ‘go! Sew Shmuel. Sew the dress that’s in your head!” 

He dropped the umbrella to the floor, returning to sit down on the chair. He hunched his shoulders forward a bit to present himself as an older man. “Shmuel, believing he was going mad, shook his head at the clock. ‘No’, Shmuel had said. ‘No, it’s not right. I’ve got to accept the little time I’ve got.’ Shmuel looked at the clock that was on his wrist, seeing that it was once again the exact time to leave the shop. “‘Oh, look.’ Shmuel said. ‘It’s time to go’. And so he stood and began packing his things, but the clock wasn’t ready to give up!” 

He stood again, back hunched. He began picking up a few items from the desk, placing them into a small box. (Y/N) groaned, holding her hand out. “Why do all of my things have to come into this?” She complained. “Use your own stuff if you wanna tell some damn story.” 

He ignored her, finishing his process of packing up. “Shmuel finished packing up, ‘really it’s time I leave,’ Shmuel said again to the shop. ‘Goodnight, old Klimovich.’ Shmuel called out, pulling his coat onto his frail shoulders. He was nearly ready to go when the clock cried out ‘wait! Not yet!”

Bucky bent to grab the umbrella again, standing up straight. “Pretty good right?” He asked (Y/N), winking at her as he put his arms in the position for the clock. 

She scoffed, “I’m riveted.” 

He blew her a kiss, straightening his arms out. “The clock spoke loudly to Shmuel, ‘Even though you may not be the wisest, or the richest, you certainly are the finest man we have in Klimovich. Listen to me, Shmuel. Make the first stitch of the dress, and you’ll see that you will get what I have promised.” 

He dropped his arms back to his side, hiding the umbrella behind his back as he hunched over again, going back into his role of Shmuel. “Shmuel gave a sigh and shook his head, ‘clock.’ Shmuel said, ‘it’s gotten so late. It’s fine. I’m happy. I’ve made peace with my life, clock. I’ve accepted that this is my fate.” 

Bucky once again took on the posture of the clock, “the clock was growing frustrated with Shmuel. It wanted to convince him immediately and was beginning to find his reluctance headache inducing. The clock spoke to him again, ‘Shmuel. Just make one stitch, and you will unlock all of the dreams you have let slip through your fingers.’” 

He hunched over once again, “Shmuel gave in, deciding he was dreaming. That he had fallen asleep at his desk and that he should just entertain this stupid clock dream. He grabbed his thread, and a bolt of velvet, and settled down to get to work.” Bucky sat down in his chair, pantomiming Shmuel gathering his things. “As Shmuel prepared to start working he stopped and turned to the clock saying, ‘I sure hope I took out my teeth before I fell asleep. God, Shmuel. Dreaming of talking clocks’. And he would shake his head, and then for some reason I figured that the clock and Shmuel would dance.”

She shook her head quickly, “there isn’t a chance in hell I’m dancing with you.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes, “I figured.” He grumbled, getting back into character. “Anyway, so Shmuel put the thread in the needle, and he got ready to sew. And the moon was full and bright and it was lighting up the whole shop from the big windows in the front, and there were no stars, which I only note because I saw it all in my head and you need to too.”

“I couldn’t care less, baby. But. Continue, please.”

“Anyway. He began sewing the black velvet into this gorgeous gown that I’m sure women would fight each other for. And the clock was reversing rapidly, minutes rewinding the entire time Shmuel worked. You know, like VHS tapes? That was the clock. And Shmuel was so concentrated he couldn’t even bother looking back at the clock to see that it was real. That time really was going back.”

Bucky sounded a little breathless after rambling but continued nevertheless. “Shmuel cut pieces of lace and attached them to the dress, adding buttons and ribbons in the back to make that - that kind of - what the hell are those things called?”

“Corset?” She supplied and he gave her a big, thankful smile. 

“He added buttons and ribbons to create the corset in the back of the dress, and the entire time the world was continuing to wind back.” Bucky motioned for (Y/N) to sit up, which she did just out of curiosity for what he would do. He gave her a smile as he draped garland around her neck, smiling at his decorated girl. He grabbed bows from the desk that were meant for presents, attaching them to the garland. “I’m decorating you, like the dress.” Bucky explained, kissing her nose. She gave him an amused smile, going along with his weird antics. 

Bucky took a deep breath, delving back into his story. “Anyway. Every single thing Shmuel did to this dress was like it had been destined by God. And it was perfect. Every cut and stitch was made without a single error. Shmuel had never sewn something as effortlessly in his entire life. It was clear to him that this was meant to be. In a fit of amazement, Shmuel realized that time  _ was turning back _ . He began crying and he shouted to the clock, ‘take me back! Take me back all forty-one years!” Bucky held his hands out in front of him as if he were begging with all of his might. She had to hand it to him, he was a decent actor.

“It went on and on in the small little shop on that silent little street in Klimovich. The clock reversing as Shmuel worked and sweat and cried over his gown. And of course, Shmuel took his time making sure that not a single swatch of fabric or inch of thread went to waste as he perfected his dress.” Bucky turned, removing a sheet from the wall that (Y/N) hadn’t even noticed before. “The sun began rising on that endless night, as Shmuel stretched his body. He was finally finished with this dress, this magnificent dress.” Bucky leant under the desk, plugging in a cord. The wall that had been previously covered with a sheet lit up. Strings of Christmas lights had been tacked up onto the wall in the most hodgepodge of way, and all (Y/N) could do was smile. 

Bucky removed the tape measure from around his neck, dropping it back to the desk. He smoothed his fingers through his hair, breathing in deeply. He could feel his mouth beginning to get a little dry. He reached his hands out to (Y/N), who took a moment before reluctantly giving in, allowing him to pull her up from the couch. He spun her a little before holding her close to him, swaying ever so slightly while he continued his tale. “Shmuel at last was finally happy, finally felt complete. He’d managed to sew 41 years worth of dreams into the seams of that dress. Dreams that Shmuel could feel were beginning to become real, just as the clock promised. He had done it. He’d finally accomplished the one thing he’d always held himself back from. He’d finally made it. His perfect, wonderful dress.”

Bucky kissed (Y/N) softly on the lips, rubbing his thumb over her cheek before letting her go. He motioned for her to sit on the bench before the bed, thankful that their studio apartment was small and practically completely open. She obediently did so, gripping onto the edge of the bench while he busied himself with the rest of his story. “This was the dress that he’d labored over for more hours than anyone would ever know, thanks to the clock of course. A dress that had been in his head since he was a boy. The dress was Shmuel’s true masterpiece. Anyone who looked at that dress would have fallen madly in love.” 

He winked at her, reaching beside the fireplace to produce another string of Christmas lights which he began wrapping around the body form. “And according to the papers this was the very dress that a young girl in Odessa wore on the day she got married to a young man named Shmuel. A man who she vowed to love for the rest of her life.” Bucky shrugged, “I heard that it was a beautiful ceremony.” He plugged the end of the light strand into the wall, letting the body form light up. 

Bucky stood beside the body form with his hands clasped behind his back, smiling lovingly at (Y/N). She couldn’t help but return his smile, her eyes a little watery at the effort the love of her life had put into this work of fiction. “That was pretty good,” she acknowledged. “A little choppy, but it was fun.” She joked, smiling the entire time she’d spoken. 

“I’m not done yet,” Bucky informed her. “Many had hoped and dreamed and even prayed to any higher power to get out of their small town of Klimovich. Though, they never could seem to get away. Could never get their break, could never escape their home.” Bucky closed the distance between him and (Y/N), kneeling down in front of her. “You know? I think that if Shmuel had been a cute girl, he’d have looked a hell of a lot like you.”

(Y/N) gasped, eyes going wide. “I’m Shmuel?” 

Bucky nodded, laughing a bit. “Oh, yeah.”

(Y/N) glared at him, pointing at her own chest. “I’m not the girl from Odessa?” She asked, having assumed the entire time that Bucky would have been Shmuel. That this story would have ended with him saying that was just his way of telling her he loved her. She felt a tad embarrassed. 

“Maybe it’s because you’re afraid to go out on to a limb-ovich?” Bucky tried, pleased when (Y/N) laughed, her face losing the shock it had just held. “No?” He asked.

“No,” (Y/N) confirmed.

He shook his hand dismissively. “Maybe it’s because your heart’s completely in it, but you know, maybe your brain just can’t follow through?” Bucky sighed, taking (Y/N)’s hand in his own. “But baby.. Shouldn’t I want the world to see the brilliant, and gorgeous girl that inspires me every single day?” 

(Y/N) bit on her lip, watching him carefully. She knew where he was headed and she was less than prepared. “Bucky,” she whispered, trying to stop the course of this conversation. 

“Don’t you think now’s a good time to be the ambitious freak you are, (Y/N)? C’mon. You can’t keep wiping ashtray’s at the bar. You can’t continue temping, baby. You’re so much better than that. You’re so talented it’s insane. Someone has to see that, acknowledge that. You know? Stop letting yourself get discouraged. Stop getting in your own beautiful little head and telling yourself you aren’t good enough. You’ve got to believe in yourself, babe. You know I do.” He brought her hand up to his lips, placing a kiss to the back of it. “C’mon,” he said, standing up with her. He lifted her by her hips, placing her onto her feet on the bench. “Say hello to (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N), a big time novelist.” He held his arms out, mocking the cheers of a crowd. 

(Y/N) laughed, hiding her face in embarrassment. “Bucky,” she said in between laughs, finally giving in. She shook her head, arms stretching out to her sides. She stuck her tongue out at him before bowing to him, pretending to accept a bouquet of roses. Bucky clapped for her, shaking his head at her theatrics. “You’re a ham,” he declared, holding his hands out to her to help her down from the bench. 

When she was on her feet in front of him he pecked her nose. “Here,” he said, turning from her to grab something from atop the dresser to his left. (Y/N) sat back down on the bench, furrowing her brows as she accepted the package from him. She looked at him for permission before tearing the wrapping paper off, smiling down at the package of paper in her hands. “For your printer,” he supplied before she could ask him what it was for. “So you can print out your manuscript.. Though, now I guess you have to finish it.” He winked at her, producing another smaller package from the dresser, placing it atop the package of paper before getting on his knees again in front of her. “And there’s the ink,” he told her while she unwrapped it. 

“Bucky, this is so sweet, but I don’t think I can.” (Y/N) shook her head, leaning forward to give him a kiss on the lips. Bucky shrugged, taking the paper and ink from her lap. He set them beside her leg before reaching underneath the bench, pulling out a small box which he held up to her. 

“Take a breath, take a chance, and take your time baby.” Bucky offered her the box, which she gladly accepted. When the string was untied and the lid was removed she saw a brilliant gold watch situated atop a bed of decorative tissue papers. “You’ve got time baby. You just have to do it.” 

Bucky removed the watch from the box, holding it out to (Y/N). She held her wrist up, allowing Bucky to slip the watch on her and fasten it. He kissed her wrist, just above the watch, before resting his hands on her knees, looking up at her. “Have I mentioned how lucky I am to be in love with you?” 


	7. Summer In Ohio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader is in Ohio for the production of a script she'd written, and she misses her husband.
> 
> Alternative Chapter Title: I Really, Really Hate It Here

(Y/N) groaned when her phone reflected her own face at her, Bucky’s name in white font set across her forehead and “Dialing…” in smaller white font underneath that. She was sat on the uncomfortable mattress in her rundown apartment for the summer, exhaustion setting in after two miserable days of poor sleep and too much work. Her legs ached from swimming across the lake the day before, attempting to relieve (or rather, escape) her stress from the director of the play forcing her to rewrite the entirety of the second act. She wanted to brain the director to death with her laptop, and the fact that she was unable to talk to Bucky for two consecutive days wasn’t helping the problem. 

The moment he told her he was free she’d pressed the “FaceTime” button on her screen so fast she had hardly been aware she’d actually done it. Now she was sitting in jittery anticipation, listening to the dull dings of the ringer. 

When her phone changed from “Dialing…” to “Connecting…” her entire body tensed, her bottom lip tucking between her teeth. Bucky’s handsome face finally appearing on her screen made her heart ache with longing underneath her ribs. “Hi, baby.”

He gave her a wide smile, his whole face lighting up. “Hi,” He shifted a bit on the bed he was lying in, reaching across his body to pull the string to turn on the lamp. She smiled, being able to see him better. She’d struggled with having to leave him back home in New York, had hardly been able to part with her newly betrothed but the knowledge that he was now only a phone call away was comforting her just a tad. 

“How was your press yesterday?” She wondered, standing up from the mattress on legs that ached in protest. It took a considerable amount of effort to keep herself from letting him become aware of her sore muscles. 

“It was nothing special. I was bored most of the day, being shuffled from room to room. I wish you were here,” he added on as an afterthought. She frowned a little at his comment, slipping her feet into the tattered old Toms that were discarded beside the front door to her apartment. 

“I wish I were there with you too, babe. But instead I’m here in Ohio, withering away.” She put the back of her hand to her forehead, melodramatically acting as if she were going to die. 

“Hey, babe. Remember I’m the actor here, don’t come for my job.” He teased with a wink, watching his wife closely through the screen of his cell phone. “Where’re you right now?” He wondered, noticing the background behind her changing. 

“I’m walking out of my little apartment on the edge of camp. Though, really, it should be called a fucking hut the thing is so run down.” She sighed, walking past someone she knew, carefully angling the camera so that Bucky could see the man behind her. “That’s Carl, one of the other adults here. Has dwarfism. He’s playing a role because he fits in with the children so easily. He’s kind of a grump and I am certain he hates me,” She informed Bucky who laughed. 

“(Y/N), c’mon. I’m sure he doesn’t hate you.” 

She panned the camera back to herself, nodding her head confidently. “No, he does. If it were up to him I’d be off of this stupid thing and they’d be using his play.”

“He’s a writer too?”

She nodded, “yes. In the most liberal of senses. I don’t think Carl is very literate.” 

He let out a howl of a laugh, shaking his head a little. “(Y/N),” he admonished. “Be nice.”

She rolled her eyes, making a mocking face at him. “I’m being nice,” she defended as she continued walking towards the camp. 

“So,” Bucky smirked. “How are you really liking the camp?”

She sighed, taking a moment to think. “It’s wonderful. I don’t think that there is anything that would beat being here. I mean, let me think. I could have a whole mansion on some hill in a remote country, and I’d be less content than I am here. I could have a satchel full of dollar bills, and I’d be like ‘pft. I shall not leave Ohio.” 

He rolled his eyes, smiling amusedly at his wife. “You’re something else.”

She shrugged, “I would certainly hope so. Who would want to be normal?” She wondered. She continued on her walk, gasping loudly when a thought crossed her mind. “Oh, shit. I didn’t tell you about the stripper, did I?”

Bucky widened his eyes in shock, “what stripper? You’re at a summer camp for children.” He reminded her, as if that weren’t painfully obvious already. She rolled her eyes, lowering her hand as she passed by a group of the children of the camp, not wanting them to see her talking to her phone. When they were a safe distance away, she raised her hand again, getting an odd look from her screen. 

“Why was I staring at your hip?” 

She shrugged, “kids were walking by.” She skipped a few feet, stopping near the dock. “So right, anyway. Her name is Alexis, right? She lives in Columbus but apparently is trying to get herself brownie points with the judge over some custody hearing thing with her kid. I don't know the whole story. Regardless, she used to be a stripper in Columbus before she got knocked up. You can tell, too. Just in the way she carries herself and dresses. She’s pretty great, honestly. Oh!” Her lips curled in a big smile as she kicked her shoes off, settling down on the edge of the dock, dangling her feet into the water. “She has a snake too. Guess it’s name?”

“Snake?” He ventured, unimaginatively.

“Wayne,” she supplied, resting her elbow on her thigh to support her arm. “He’s kinda gross, because he’s shedding right now. And you know how gross snakes are when they shed,” he nodded his head in agreement. He was smiling an almost lazy smile, just happy to be watching his wife and listening to her ramble on about the ongoings of camp and about the snake he would never meet. “Anyway. We share a room, whenever she actually bothers to come back for the night. I think she’s sleeping with the director of the camp, but. Who’s to say for certain?” 

“Who knew a children’s summer camp would have so much drama?”

Her smile was big, warming up her entire face. Bucky’s heart panged with longing, he missed her. Missed her more than he would care to let on. “How’s it apart from the stripper, and the illiterate dwarf?” Bucky wondered, shifting on his bed to get more comfortable. 

“Oh, it’s just horrible.” She groaned, rubbing her forehead tiredly. “I mean. Let me count all the things I would like more than being in Ohio for the summer.” She took a second to think before rattling things off. “Let’s see. Okay, I could literally shove an ice pick in my eye. This one.” She brought the phone a little closer to her eye, letting him get a good look at it before pulling the phone back to show her full face. “And it’d be better than this here state.” She grumbled. 

Bucky laughed, “really?”

She nodded, “yep!”

He rolled his eyes, “you’re really a drama queen you know that? I love you, I do. But c’mon. It can’t be that bad.” 

“No! It really is, Bucky. I swear to God. It’s horrible. I have no cable, no hot water -  _ you know _ how much I hate having cold showers. I have no vietnamese food, which. How terrible, I miss our takeout joint. Whenever I have a bad day at rehearsal with the kids, all I want to do is cuddle up on the couch with a box of takeout. And the worst part. The  _ very _ worst part is.. I don’t have you, Bucky.” 

Her frown was enough to make him feel sad too. For him to want to rush to Ohio on the first plane and pull her into his arms. To kiss her and rub her back and tell her how much he loved her. It was torture being away from her. It was torture for her to be away from him. It was all nonsense and if she never went back to Ohio, it would be too soon for the both of them. 

She sighed heavily, trying to figure out a way to lighten the mood. She came up with nothing and he had nothing either. He could smile at her, in that award winning way of his. Her heart melted. “Baby, I love you.” He said in a soothing way. She beamed a smile back at him, the smile reaching all the way to her eyes. 

“I love you too,” she responded, blowing a kiss at her phone. He grabbed at his chest, pretending like the kiss was a bullet to his heart. She rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the giggle that escaped her lips. He was too much for her, and she was too much for him. They were under each other's spell, and marriage proved to only worsen it. 

His hand came up to rub tiredly at his eyes and she saw the glint of the simple gold band around his fourth finger. She knew that it was her ring on his finger. Her possession of him. She smiled big, “I love seeing your ring.” 

He chuckled, spinning it absently with his thumb and pinky. “I’m pretty fond of it myself,” he acknowledged. The two sat there for a moment in silence, both wishing they were together before she perked up.

  
“So, I forgot to tell you. The other day, the other adults and I took a quick drive to Kentucky, right?” He nodded, showing that he was listening. “And we stopped at Target because we needed to get some things. Anyway, I walked in and the entertainment section was directly to the right. Which was convenient because I have to solely rely on watching DVD’s for entertainment. And I looked over and guess who the hell I saw?”

His eyebrows raised in surprise, smiling. “Who?”

“You! You were on this like, big poster thing advertising your movie. Of course I walked over immediately and grabbed a copy. Richard followed me and he was like -” She changed her voice to be snarky, “‘All things considered I guess you don’t have to buy that’. Which, first of all? How offensive is that? Like, just because you’re my husband doesn’t mean I don’t have to buy your movie? Second of all, him being snarky about it made me want it even more. So, I smiled like Mona Lisa, walked over to check out, and bought that DVD before we even started our shopping trip.” 

Bucky laughed loudly, rubbing his hand down his face. “(Y/N),” he sighed. “You really didn’t have to do that. I know you were being petty and proving a point but you didn’t have to buy a copy of my DVD.” 

She shrugged, “like I said. We don’t have cable so I needed DVD’s to watch on my computer. It’s a good movie, baby. Like, really good.. You did such a good job in it. I’ve seen it a handful of times and every single time I’m still in awe of you, babe. I really am lucky being your wife.”

The blush on his cheek was so obvious it almost made her giggle. “You really are too flattering, babe.” She winked at him and the two dropped the conversation of flattery. 

“So, Richard. Don’t like him?” Bucky asked, bringing the subject off of himself. 

She laughed, nodding her head, her hair falling in front of her face. “No, I don’t, not really. But, God. He wants me, he really wants me. He flirts with me every single chance he can get and he doesn’t make it subtle at all. He just does everything he can to get time with me. And he’s the assistant director of this camp, so it’s not hard for him to get his way.” She shrugged nonchalantly, “it’s fine. He isn’t gonna get me. I’m kind of spoken for. I have a pretty great guy, you should meet him sometime.” 

He rolled his eyes at his wife, “yeah. I’ll make that a priority.” He rolled over onto his other side, placing the phone against a pillow to prop it up and free his tired arm. “Damn right he isn’t going to get you, though. You’re all mine.” He winked at the camera. 

She took a moment to look his face over, sighing dramatically. “God, look at you. I mean, look at me, and then look at you. Sonovabitch, I must be doin’ somethin’ right to have landed you.” She shook her head. “Hell we aren't perfect but. We’re pretty damn close, don’t you think?”

“Damn right,” he whisper cheered. 

Her head snapped to the side when she heard noises, seeing a gaggle of children running towards the lake in their bathing suits. She groaned, looking back at her phone. “I gotta go baby. I do, I’m sorry.” She sighed heavily, standing up from the dock, letting her feet dry for a moment. “Hurry up and get your ass out here to Ohio, you schmuck. I miss you.”

“I miss you too, baby.” He sat up in the bed. “I love you and I’ll see you soon.”

“I love you too,” she replied. “I gotta go though, babe. I’ll talk to you soon.” She pressed her thumb against the red ‘end’ button and turned just in time. The children all ran past her shouting ‘ _ Hi Mrs. Barnes’  _ as they made their way into the lake, Richard following behind them.

“Interesting call?” He asked, raising his eyebrows at her, seeing her phone gripped tightly in her hand. 

She shrugged, “guess so. Anyway, I should probably get back and finish those last little edits to the script. I’ll uh, see you around. Good luck with them.” 

Richard’s jaw was set tight, nodding as he watched her leave. She was already missing Bucky. 

~~~

Two weeks later, she was drying her sweaty hands on her skirt clad thighs, watching the children all run around backstage, screaming and giggling while waiting for the cue that the show was going to be starting soon. To say she was nervous would be an understatement of the century. It was the first time that one of her scripts were to be performed in front of an audience. She’d helped with scripts in the past at the summer camp, editing here and there. Helping with dialogue occasionally. But never once was it solely her work. Never was it something that she had created and crafted all on her own.

She felt like she was on the verge of vomiting. Her hair had begun to come out of it’s neat bun, falling around her face and if she hadn’t just gotten her nails done she would have been anxiously picking at them. She didn’t know how people did this so often. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to it. 

Alexis noticed her legs nervous twitching, shaking her head a little at the bundle of nerves that was her roommate. “Listen,” Alexis said, walking over to (Y/N) with a pageant smile on her lips. “You’re not going out there to perform it, so there’s no reason to be nervous, okay?” She gripped (Y/N)’s shoulders tightly, rubbing them to calm her friend. “The kids all know their lines, and with any luck they’ll be half decent. Besides, they’re just playing to a bunch of elderly people. They won’t be the harshest of critics. Just breathe, and know your play is good.” 

She wanted to smile, but all that came out was a shaky laugh. “Thanks, Alexis.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure it’s wonderful. I’m excited to see it,” said a voice from behind her. Her entire face lit up as she shook Alexis’s hands off of her shoulders and spun on her heels, running to the source of the voice. She jumped into Bucky’s arms without a moment’s hesitation, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist while peppering his face with kisses. “Baby!” She shrieked between kisses. “I didn’t know you were coming.” 

He laughed, wrapping his arms around her waist to hold her against him. “I wanted to surprise you, babe. I wanted to be here for your opening night and your first performance of your first play ever.” 

She giggled, kissing him again. “You’re a wonderful husband, you know that?” 

He smirked, “so I’ve been told.” 


	8. The Next Ten Minutes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky asks Reader a question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! So - this was arguably one of the hardest chapters to write because it had to delve so far away from the original material. I swear - it was so annoying. The dialogue of the song was ... incomprehensible when transferred to like normal talking. So. Bear with me I guess.

Bucky walked slowly beside (Y/N), their hands intertwined with each other. Their fingers were locked tightly together, their hands swinging a little with every step that the two of them took. Their heads were on a slow swivel, glancing around Central Park as they progressed deeper along the foliage covered pathway. It was late summer, and the air was starting to get the crisp taste of fall to it. Her skin prickled with goosebumps every time a gust of wind danced over her skin. The floral dress she wore didn’t proved her with much coverage, though she was still proud to show off the outfit she’d made. 

He stopped when she did, following her line of sight up to the building on the left that was overlooking Central park. “Is that one John Lennon?” She asked, narrowing her eyes at the building. The two of them had decided to take a stroll earlier that day and on the short cab ride down to the park he’d told her about the many celebrity apartments that looked down on the park. She was excited to figure them out. 

“No,” he chuckled. “That one’s Jerry Seinfeld.” He nodded to the building next to the one their eyes were currently trained on, smiling a little. “That one’s John Lennon, there.” 

She pursed her lips, amused by his knowledge. He’d told her that he’d read about the apartments in a magazine or something, and she was glad he was sharing this knowledge with her. It was a silly little thing, but it still made her happy. The lake was just in front of them, and she could smell the stale water already. The two resumed their walk, arms swinging more than before. “Is that the San Remo?” She asked of an apartment building to the right. 

“No, the Dakota. The San Remo’s up a few blocks, that way.” He pointed forward, indicating the direction to her. She nodded, smiling softly as she took everything in. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as they walked, trying to keep himself from smiling like a fool. “Have you ever been inside of the museum?”

She shook her head, frowning a bit. “I always inended to go. Just never had the time or the company.”

“We should go,” Bucky suggested. “See the dinosaur bones, they’re rather massive. It’s impressive. And the artifacts are fascinating.” 

She smirked, “you’re such a nerd.” 

He could tell by the expression on her face that she was happy. A real, deep happiness that she didn’t have to try to show. It was evident in her eyes, in the upturn of her lips, in the pep of her step. He’d catch these glimpses of happiness when they were together and it would remind him why he loved her, why they were his happy ending. 

Their hands swung as they walked, following the parks path. They wound around a bend, slowing their stride as they neared a gazebo. “Should we take a break and sit in here for a bit?” 

“We could have our picnic there?” She offered, indicating the basket he’d been carrying in the hand that wasn’t holding hers. “I think it’d be nice. We can put the blanket out, be cool and protected from the sun.” 

Bucky gave her a sincere smile, “I think that’s a great idea, babe.” The two dropped hands, ascending the steps of the gazebo. He set the basket down and took the blanket off of the top. She waited for him to splay it out before getting out the picnic contents, setting them atop the blanket to keep it weighted down against the soft breeze. 

The two crossed their legs underneath themselves as they sat on opposite sides of the blanket, (Y/N) busying herself with unwrapping the plates. He watched her with a soft smile, still on his lips, amazed that she was his. 

She glanced up from what she was doing, furrowing her brows at him. “Why are you staring at me?” 

“Cause you’re beautiful.” 

She rolled her eyes, but he caught her smiling as she looked back down, returning her attention to her task. “Can I ask you something?” He wondered, beginning to peel the wrapping off of the wine bottle.

“Of course,” she replied, dishing the food up for the two of them. 

“Would you share your life with me?” He wondered, keeping his attention on the wine bottle. “For the next ten minutes, at least.” 

“Hmm?” 

He sighed, “I asked if you’d share your life with me, for the next ten minutes. Figured we could handle that.” 

“We’ve been dating for two years, Bucky.” She sighed, returning her attention to the picnic happenings. “I think we’ve more than shown we can handle ten minutes, and I’ve shared my life with you for a much longer period of time than that.” 

He cleared his throat a little, “would you just allow me this?”

“What ten minutes? Okay.” 

He smiled, pushing up to stand, offering her his hand. She was hesitant for a moment before accepting it, allowing him to help her stand. “If you agree to these next ten minutes then I might be compelled to ask you for more."

"More minutes?" She wondered, allowing him to spin her around by her hand. "I am afraid I can only give you like, maybe the one set of ten."

He rolled his eyes but his smile didn't falter. "There are just, so many things I want to do with you. So many dreams and stories and lives that I need to experience with you."

She allowed him to wrap his arm around your waist, keeping your hand in his. "My life wouldn't be complete without you," he finished his thought, dancing around with her slowly, humming softly under his breath.

"What are you trying to say, Bucky?" She asked with mild confusion and an air of concern to her voice. She looked worried, nearly. Eyes a little bigger than normal, staring up at him.

He stopped humming, dropping her hand from his. "I'm asking you for ten more minutes," he replied, dropping slowly to his knee. "I'm asking you for a lifetime of ten more minutes, babe." 

She swallowed hard, eyes frantically scanning over his face. "Bucky," she whispered. "Are you -"

He nodded, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans to retrieve a small envelope. He carefully opened it and allowed the ring to drop into his palm. He took in a deep breath, holding the ring up to her, the light hitting it just right to make it shine. "Will you marry me?"

Her mouth dropped, heart picking up speed as her breath caught in her throat. "I know that it's longer than ten minutes, but... I think we can handle this."

She was silent, looking slowly between the ring and him, her mind going a mile a minute. He began to worry, face falling. The corners of his mouth drooped from the wide smile they once held, his throat feeling like it was going to close. He held the ring a little tighter but lowered his hand. "If.. If this isn't something you want, you can tell me." 

This snapped her out of her spell, her brain restarting, finding her voice. "No!" She replied, answering his question. 

He took a sharp breath in, retreating from her like he'd been slapped. 

"Oh," he whispered, swallowing hard while he nodded his head. "Of course."

She quickly shook her head, processing what she'd just done. "No! I mean, no, it is something I want." She cupped his face delicately in her hands. "I'm sorry, I'm not always on time." She winked. "But you don't expect that from me. Right?" She leaned forward to kiss him softly. 

"I want to be your wife," she whispered when she pulled away from the kiss, lowering herself to her knees to be level with him. "I want to bear your child. Hell. I want to one day die knowing I've had a long, full and happy life in your arms. I want your next ten minutes, and then ten after that, until we both run out of minutes to give." She leaned forward to give him another kiss, stroking his cheekbones with her thumbs gently. 

His arms instinctively wrapped around her, clutching her tightly to his body. She wound her arms around his neck, "I don't know how people survive in this world without someone like you, Bucky."

"Are you saying yes?"

"I'm saying yes," she nodded, pulling back just enough to look him in his eyes. "I'm saying I won't be complete until I walk down the aisle and get to say 'I do' to you. I'm saying that I will give you my entire lifetime, baby."

His lips pulled back into a nearly painful smile as he released her from his arms, offering her the ring he'd still been clutching in his hand. She held her hand up, curling all but her third finger against her hand. He bit his lip, slowly sliding the ring down her finger until it nestled perfectly at the base. She extended all of her fingers then, processing the way the ring looked on her finger. Accepting the way it felt right to be receiving it from Bucky. 

In that moment, sitting on her knees on the gazebo with the love of her life, everything felt right. Everything felt like it had finally fallen into place. She loved Bucky, and she knew wholeheartedly then that he loved her, too. That he was giving her just as much as she was giving him. All was good. They were good. She cupped his cheek with her hand again, giving him another soft kiss. "I love you," she whispered to him against his lips.

His hands rubbed softly over her back, "I love you too. Forever." 


	9. A Miracle Would Happen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky drinks with the boys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! Life got fuckin' WEIRD for me these last four months, dude. And I didn't write, at all. I didn't even so much as open up a document to stare at it. And then I got work, and it was great. And then COVID-19 happened, and I lost all of my work. And then I maybe, probably got covid, and then I slept for two weeks. And then I got better. And I opened this document. And I started writing. And here we are. This is the shortest chapter yet. It had to be. There wasn't much to do with it. I tried. Anyway. Bucky isn't shit. (-:

Walking into the old bar he was quick to spot his friends comfortably sat in a booth near the back. Each had a drink in front of them and they looked like they were sharing easy conversation. He stopped at the bar and ordered himself a whiskey sour, offering the bartender a ten-dollar bill after they set the drink down in front of him. 

Spinning on his heels he turned his back to the bar, crossing the floor to the booth where his friends were. They both looked up at him with warm, welcoming smiles. “Hey man,” Steve greeted, scooting over to make room for Bucky. Sam raised his drink in greeting before taking a sip of his beer. 

“Hey guys,” he sighed, taking off his coat. He folded it onto his lap, leaning against his elbows on the table. “How’s it hanging?”

“A little to the left,” Sam teased. He clinked the neck of his bottle against the rim of Bucky’s tumbler before bringing the bottle to his lips, taking a long drink from the beer. “How’s it going for you?”

Steve perked up, “yeah man. How’s married life?”

He shrugged, lifting the tumbler to his lips, swallowing back half of it in one gulp. “It’s going.” 

Sam and Steve exchanged looks before Sam spoke, “what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve set his cup down. “Oh don’t give us that, Bucky. Seriously. Just - tell us what’s going on with you. Is there something wrong with (Y/N)?”

“No,” he answered quickly, setting his now-empty tumbler down with a clunk against the faux wood tabletop. “No, she’s good. She’s what she’s always been.”

Sam nodded, “then what  _ is _ the problem? Because I know work is great.” 

“It’s just…” Bucky took in a deep breath, looking at the ice in his glass for a second, trying to find words to describe what he was thinking, feeling. “It’s stupid. You know? But… Everyone tells you that the minute you get married suddenly every girl finds you attractive.”

“So?” Steve wondered. 

“Well it’s just that - it’s not every girl. It’s just the kind of girl you’ve always dreamed about. I mean - gorgeous women who you never thought in a million years would ever find you attractive. The ones you would notice from afar and have to look away from before you could even begin to convince yourself you deserved to talk to them.” 

“Where is this going?” Sam whispered to no one in particular. 

“It’s going to hell. Or at least, I am.” Bucky finished his drink in another long swallow, putting up two fingers to invite the waitress over, ordering another drink. “Suddenly all of these beautiful women are falling on their knees for me, or at least that’s what it feels like. You know? A-and I’m stuck standing there dumbfounded and so - _so_ _painfully_ tempted. But I _can not touch them_. I can’t even fucking really look at them.”

“Bucky,” Steve sighed. “You don’t mean…”

He waved his hand at his friend, “it’s like this man. I’m sitting there right. Minding my own, eating my corned beef sandwich, when suddenly this pair of breasts walks by my table. And she offers me this smile, and I want to drool over myself watching her pass me. I know she wants me, and God only knows I want her.”

“Hey, must’ve been quite the sight,” Sam laughed awkwardly.

“Mhmm,” Bucky continued. “And it’s not fair. It’s blatantly unfair. In some perfect world, where miracles would happen, every girl would just disappear. They’d fly away the moment this fucking ring was put on my finger.” He spun the gold band at the base of his fourth finger, watching it move against his skin. “But we don’t live in a perfect world. And it’s not just me and (y/n), and nothing else. No one else.” 

“What are you getting at man?” Steve ventured, a tad uncomfortable. 

“Nothing, nothing at all.” He thanked the waitress when she set his drink down, wrapped his large hand around the cold glass. 

Sam shifted a little in his seat, “you okay?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Yeah. I’m fine.” He sipped the sour liquid, pulling the edges of his mouth down a tad. “I’m totally fine. This isn’t even a problem. A challenge, sure. Trying not to be tempted by strangers? A challenge, but not a problem… I’m fine.” He repeated, becoming aware he was beginning to speak in circles. 

“Well, are you doing okay with this ‘challenge’?”

“Yes, I am.”

The three were silent for a moment, all studying their drinks as if solving an equation. Bucky clenched his jaw and huffed. “Can I just... I have to say this.” He shook his head with a bitter chuckle. “You wanna know what exacerbates this  _ problem _ ? I’m always at these dumb parties, for work, you know? They’re always for my work in particular so naturally, I’m the center of attention. I’m the grand Fromage, for Christ's sake.” He sloshed his liquid around in his tumbler. “And then here this girl will come. Young, beautiful and charming. She’ll speak to me for a few moments and then ask me for coffee or to read her manuscript. And I’ll spend the whole time talking with my left hand, punctuating every bleeding word with my left hand. And I’ll have done  _ nothing.  _ But here will come (y/n), cause she knows. They always know when someone is talking to their husband.”

“It’s like she has this fucking homing beacon in her that will start blasting an alarm if another girl comes within five feet of me. It’s ridiculous. And I’ll have to sit there, act innocent. Then there’s this really uncomfortable, awkward moment where I have to pretend like I wasn’t encouraging this new woman's attention. Which, of course, we all know that I sort of was. But that would just ruin everything, right?” He paused long enough to swallow a mouthful of whiskey. “And I don’t want to look whipped in front of this new woman, so I have this feigned bravado with (y/n). Which is stupid, why should I even care what she thinks of me? Especially since I can’t fuck her anyway.” He finished his drink with a flourish, clunking his tumbler against the tabletop loud enough to startle his tablemates. 

The two exchanged glances while their friend ordered his third drink, crossing his arms against the table. “I just…,” he trailed off, looking down and away from them.

“Just want to cheat on your wife?” Sam whispered against the mouth of his bottle, looking anywhere but his friend. “Cause that’s what it sounds like you’re saying to us.”

Bucky chuckled, “yeah. I guess so.” 

He lifted his head when a hand came into his view, setting his newest drink down. “Thanks,” he mumbled, picking the glass up to drink from. “I’ll reiterate,” he mused. “In a perfect world, where miracles happen, every single girl would look like… Like Mr. Ed.” 

“Who?” Steve wondered.

“TV horse who could talk,” Sam filled him in.

Bucky nodded, “yep. And it would be me and (y/n), and nothing else would matter. Nothing at all. But, again. It’s not a perfect work.” He downed the glass in two long swallows. “It’s fine.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Mhmm. Cause it is. It’s fine, it’s totally fine. This -” he looked down at his ring, keeping silent for a long moment. “This is what I wanted. And this isn’t gonna be a problem. And everything is gonna be fine.”


End file.
